


Writing Names on Dragon Wings

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon - Manga, Canon-Typical Violence, Community: fmabigbang, F/M, Illustrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  Before going to the East and West, respectively, the Elric brothers and Winry decide to take a trip to Milos. Unfortunately for them, Milos and Creta are still battling over Table City, and they get caught up in the war.  What's worse, Creta has invented flying warships.  Milos might still have the upper hand, though - they have dragons.<br/><b>Disclaimer:</b>  Arakawa absolutely owns all.  This is a derivative work, and I’m not making any money from writing it.  Drat it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flying Machines and Other Impossibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Dzioo, for her gorgeous artwork, and to my beta readers, Cornerofmadness, Anat Astarte and Shanachie Quill, for their help in making this a better work.

**Chapter One: Flying Machines and Other Impossibilities**

_It is said by scholars and learned men that dragons do not exist. That the creatures are a metaphor. That, even though each country has pervasive tales of giant lizards that could fly, or spit fire (or ice, or acid), that could carry away whole cows, or an armored man on an armored horse, or even an elephant, dragons were no more real than a fairy tale, a bogey to give children or childish adults pause._

_There was no reason to wonder at the dragon’s place in alchemy (just because a lion – a real creature - appears in the same texts means nothing). A salamander can no more control flames than a fish can. No Celestial Pearl is sought by three- or four- or five-toed drakes._

_This is what is believed by the learned; despite thunder being the ‘dragon’s growl’, and lightning being his forked tongue. Despite the first steam engines, crossing countries on their rails, being likened to sinuous wyrms, blowing cinders and with steam clouds curling in their wake. Despite the ‘Dragon’s pulse’ enhancing Xingese alchemy._

_Despite what knowledge one creature in all the world could be sure of – dragons existed – though the homunculus wasn’t about to share that knowledge. It knew dragons thrived, at least, once upon a time. Perhaps not in this world, not in this time, but there are always possibilities, and isn’t that where dreams come from, anyway?_

**Winter-Spring, 1916, Risembool, Amestris**

It had been decided, before the brothers went East and West, respectively, they’d all go on one trip together. Alphonse made the decision, “We should go back to Milos. We didn’t get to spend a lot of time there, really, and I’d like to see Julia Crichton again.”

He hadn’t expected the teasing – “Did you tell Mei about Julia?” Winry asked, grinning. “Should you write her and let her know you’re visiting an old girlfriend before you go to Xing to see her?” 

Edward clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “Dunno, Winry, Julia might be able to take the bean girl. She’s a really good alchemist.” 

Mentally cursing his skin for heating up, Alphonse protested. “It’s not like that! I mean, I like Julia, but not any more than Ed likes Rose. Or Armony!” As soon as he said her name, Alphonse regretted it. The light in Edward’s eyes flickered and dimmed, and Winry, confused, looked from one of them to the other.

“Who’s Armony?” 

“A girl who wanted me to teach her alchemy.” Edward twitched his shoulders, his jaw tightening. “She died,” he finally said. 

“Oh.” Winry glanced down at her hands, twining them in her lap. “Well, maybe we should go to Aerugo instead?”

Alphonse latched onto the change of subject. “We don’t have time to get passports to Aerugo, but we could probably get them for Table City pretty easily, especially if we write Julia and tell her we’re coming.” 

“You do that, Al,” Edward said. “She probably doesn’t remember Winry or me.” The teasing lilt wasn’t quite back in his voice, but he made the effort. “Get on it, and let us know what she says.” 

That had been almost two months prior. Julia responded in about a month. They spent the rest of their time getting visas, since Edward no longer had his State Alchemist watch to flash for admittance anywhere. Plus, they had to get clothes for traveling, and gifts for Julia, but finally, they were ready to go. 

“You kids are sure about this?” Pinako asked over the supper table, just a couple of nights before they were supposed to leave. 

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Edward paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. 

Pinako made sure to meet all of their eyes. “I know we don’t get a lot of news out of the west, but is it safe?”

Alphonse glanced at his brother, then at Winry. “How many times have we been someplace that isn’t safe, Granny?”

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Just try to be careful, and come home in one piece.” 

Two mornings later, they were ready to board the train. With some hugs to Pinako, and Den, too, and promises to not get into any trouble – Edward - and to come back with presents - Winry and Alphonse, they climbed aboard the passenger car. 

“I don’t get why you two don’t get scolded. You get into just as much trouble as I do,” Edward said, pushing his way through the aisle between the bench seats. 

Winry snorted. “You’re going to be in so much trouble this trip.” 

“Me? Al is, when the bean girl finds out he’s been visiting an old girlfriend.” 

“Julia isn’t a girlfriend! She’s a friend-friend,” Alphonse glared at them both as Edward shoved his little suitcase under a seat. Sitting down, Winry scooted over to make room for Edward. He flopped next to her, both of them watching as Alphonse settled onto the bench across from them. He wished he could ignore them, but that would mean a few days of ignoring, and he wasn’t up for it. How was it his brother and Winry wore matching evil grins? When did Winry learn that kind of smile? “Stop looking at me like that!” Oh, it was going to be a long trip. 

**Near Border City, West Amestris**

The train stopped before the Amestrian border, a military checkpoint to verify visas of those crossing the land bridge on into Milos. Winry nudged Edward awake as a lieutenant approached, followed by a sergeant, a rifle slung over her shoulder. The lieutenant’s hair looked like it’d been dyed in ink, and clung to his skull like his head might try to escape. A thin mustache rode on his lip, like it had been drawn on. The sergeant had walnut hair wrapped into a neat knot at the base of her neck, and her brown eyes scanned the three of them as if she thought they might be a threat. Winry wondered if the pair were acting, trying to frighten them, as they were the only ones on the passenger car. According to the porter who’d stopped and talked to them briefly, very few people went to Table City now, since Milos had claimed its independence from Amestris two years ago. The brothers alternated between looking proud and worried, as if their appearance there might’ve triggered it. Maybe it had, Winry considered at the time; look at what happened in Lior, at least, according to Rose. If Edward and Alphonse hadn’t shown up, Lior might’ve stayed under that priest’s rule. Who knew what might’ve happened to Milos if the Elric brothers hadn’t visited.

“Visas,” the lieutenant said, breaking into Winry’s thoughts. He stood next to their seats, his sergeant behind him, watching them like they were strange, possibly vicious, dogs. 

Winry offered her visa. The lieutenant reviewed it with great scrutiny, turning each page. Beside her, she could feel Edward bristling, but this time, she kept her elbows close to her side, not about to nudge Edward. The sergeant’s cold eyes made sure Winry didn’t move in any way that could be considered threatening. 

The lieutenant raised his gaze from her visa, studying her face closely, then looking back at the photograph. Shifting uncomfortably at the inspection, Winry froze when Edward half-rose from his seat next to her to slap his visa over Winry’s in the lieutenant’s hand. “Here,” he grumbled, not quite angry enough to build up to a growl yet, “why don’t you look mine over?” The dare hung between Edward and the lieutenant for a long instant, with the sergeant’s hand moving toward the pistol at her hip, her shoulders rotating to throw the rifle back out of the way of her intended movement. The lieutenant sniffed, his mustache twitching, and he studied Edward’s visa, then handed both of them back to him. His review of Alphonse’s visa took much less time. 

Edward made a show of replacing his and Winry’s visas in the breast pocket of his coat as the lieutenant asked, “Why are you traveling to Milos?”

“We’re visiting a friend,” Alphonse said, folding his visa and pocketing it.

“You have a friend in Milos?” From the way his eyebrows jerked, the lieutenant didn’t believe Alphonse. “Travel to Table City has been restricted since 1914, when the Milosians rose up against Amestris.” 

“Yeah,” Edward said blandly. “But Milos and Amestris are still allies against Creta. It wasn’t an actual uprising so much as Milos negotiating to retain their rights and sovereignty. At least, that was my understanding, when we were here in 1914.” He gestured between the three of them. “What was the name of that idiot commander who got himself recalled from duty then, Al, because of what he did to us?” Edward snapped his fingers as if the noise might trigger the memory. “You know, the guy who looked kind of like Yoki, but wasn’t nearly as smart.” 

“Soyuz,” Alphonse said, helpfully. “He was court martialed for interfering with your investigation, if I remember right.” 

Winry managed to keep from slapping her forehead, but only just. When the brothers started tag-teaming on their bragging rights, it made for a lot of stress, as far as she was concerned. “We’re friends of Julia Crichton,” she told the lieutenant. “We have a letter of introduction!” She’d kept control of that, at least, and pulled it out of her travel bag to offer to the lieutenant. 

He gave them all a sour look as he accepted it, though his sergeant regarded them all with a little less open hostility. “I see,” he said, tilting the vellum to show off the embossed seal of Milos – a phoenix rising from the flames. Angling the page so the sergeant could see it as well, both of them relaxed a little bit more. “Well, if you have an invitation, we’re not going to stop you,” he said, “but you should be aware, as Amestrian citizens, the conflicts between Milos and Creta have heated up.”

Alphonse leaned toward the lieutenant. “There hasn’t been any word of it,” he said. 

The lieutenant sniffed again. “I could require you to remain on Amestrian soil, where it’s safe.”

“You could,” Edward said, with a yawn, pulling a silver watch out of his pocket. Alphonse shot Winry a sharp-eyed glance and she shrugged slightly, indicating she didn’t know Edward still had his State Alchemist’s watch, either. “But we’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about us.” 

The lieutenant’s face blanked for a few seconds as he studied the watch. “I’m sorry, Major. I didn’t know.” 

Edward grinned. “That’s the way I like it, when we’re traveling incognito. Now, I’d appreciate it if you kept this,” he tapped the watch case before stuffing it back in his pocket, “between us. I’m here undercover, with my friends.” 

“Edward Elric – you’re the,” the lieutenant began.

“Shh!” Edward held up his hand to cut him off. “Secret, remember? Go on, and remember, you didn’t see us.” 

“Of…of course, sir.” The lieutenant started to salute, but hesitated at Edward’s glare. “Have a good trip, sir, and be safe.” Including Winry and Alphonse, he added, “Be careful in Milos.” 

“Thank you, lieutenant, we will,” Alphonse said, and turned his head to watch them walk through the car. When they exited the car, he leaned over to punch Edward in the arm. 

“Ow! Al!” 

“You – you idiot! Why do you still have that watch? You’re not an alchemist any more!” Alphonse cocked his fist back. “I ought to hit you again!” 

The train car jerked as the engine began moving, making them all rock in their seats. That didn’t stop Winry from elbowing Edward and asking, “Why didn’t you tell us you kept your watch?” 

Edward whined, “I figured you’d get like this! And look!” He flapped his hand between them. “You are!”

“Because you’re not an alchemist any more!” Alphonse ground out through his gritted teeth. 

“And it’s illegal,” Winry hesitated, looking around the empty train care reflexively before continuing. “To impersonate a soldier!”

“An officer, it’s illegal to impersonate an officer,” Edward corrected.

Winry poked him in the chest with her blunt fingernail. “Someone in the military!” She was almost pleased with his wince.

“Not my fault Mustang never asked for it back!” He was gloating. Winry wanted to slug him. Alphonse reared his fist back farther, and Edward raised his hands, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. “Hey! It got us out of the questioning, didn’t it? And we’ll be able to go on to Milos. Which is what we wanted, right? Right?” 

A headache started building behind Winry’s left eye. From Alphonse’s expression, he was ready to chuck Edward out the train window. “You – I’m going to tell Granny about this,” he said. 

Grinning, Edward said, “She’ll agree it’s a good idea.”

Alphonse narrowed his eyes, shaking his finger at his brother. “Teacher won’t.”

The grin turned sickly and Edward shot Winry a pleading glance. “Uh uh, this is your idea,” she said, waving her hands to absolve herself of any of this. “Don’t look at me to help you get out of it! I was in,” her voice trailed off. Something floated outside the train car window. It reflected color, making it hard to see, but something dangled off it. Winry squinted, shading her eyes as she peered through the window. “Wow.”

“Wow?” Edward frowned, turning his head. “Wow!” Leaping to his feet, he shoved the glass down, halfway climbing through the window. “What is that thing?”

Winry and Alphonse both shoved at him to get room enough to see. “It’s amazing!” Winry squeaked. “I didn’t know any country had airships! Why didn’t I know? I have to get on board and see those engines!” 

“It’d be great to fly,” Alphonse elbowing Edward to keep his place at the window. 

“Gllk!” Edward wriggled around so he was behind Winry, his chest against her back. The heat of his breath on her neck nearly distracted her from the airship. “What the – are those the Black Bats?” He pointed over Winry’s shoulder, nudging her aside to stick his head out of the window. She could barely hear his question of, “What are those things?”

The haze on the glass gone, Winry could see marginally better without the glare. Something wheeled around the ship – somethings, she amended to herself – soaring and falling and flying around it. 

“The hell,” Edward said, pulling back inside. 

Alphonse cupped his hands around his eyes to cut the glare even more. “Brother,” he said, warning. “I think.”

Edward stabbed his finger out the window at the ship, blurting, “Is that a cannon? Fuck!” Grabbing Winry’s shoulders, he spun her around, shoving her toward the center of the train car, reaching for Alphonse. “Al, get down!”


	2. Dragon Storm

**Dragon Storm  
Death Canyon, Milos**

Antonio heard noise overhead long before he could see anything, the sounds echoing around the canyon. “Hear that?” He punched Marcus, spoiling his shot at marbles.

“Ow! Stop it!” Marcus snapped, dropping his shooter into the ring, “I get a do-over!” 

“Hear what?” Karina asked, peering around. She cupped both hands around her ears, tilting her head back to catch the sound better. 

Scrambling to his feet, Antonio shouted, “Airships! It’s the Creatan Navy! Come on!” Dashing out onto the pathway, he started running up the incline. Snatching his hat off, he waved it overhead, chanting, “Navy! Navy! Navy!” Shadows passed into the ground, blotting out the sun. Antonio panted, a stitch cutting into his ribs. He ignored it as he reached the top of the incline, pausing on a wider balcony hanging over the valley floor below. Shading his eyes with his hands, he searched the sky for the airships. Marcus and Karina panted up behind him. “Where are they?” Karina asked. 

“In the sky,” Marcus sneered at his little sister. 

Karina gasped in anger and slugged him, nearly starting a fight, but Antonio shouted, “There they are!” stabbing a finger into the sky. The siblings broke apart, Marcus scrubbing his hands down his shirt front, while Karina screwed up her face, searching the sky. 

“I see them!” she said. “Where are the Black Bats?” She shielded her eyes. “The Cretans’re getting so close!”

The ships sailed overhead, the drone of their steam engines softer than the noise the trains made. The envelope balloons reflected the sky and the ground, making them harder for the kids to see. The Cretan flag flew proudly behind the ships. Marcus bent down, grabbing a bit of stone off the balcony and flinging it at the sky with a grunt. “No!”  
Karina squeaked, grabbing at his arm. “Don’t!” 

“Come on,” Antonio whispered, “come on.” He clenched his fists, watching the Cretan ships as they sailed by. A high, shrill whistle came from the ships as some metallic balls spilled out of a hole at the bottom of the gondolas. “Get back!” he shouted, grabbing for Karina. The bombs glinted silver in the sunlight as they tumbled out of the sky. 

People on the canyon floor screamed and scattered, trying to find a place to hide. One of the bombs hit a wall. The explosion sent rock flying. Karina screamed and buried her face in Antonio’s chest. 

Marcus shouted, “Where are the Black Bats?” over the rumble and crash of more explosions. 

A woman yelled from the cave entrance behind them. “Get inside! Get inside, now!” 

A strange sound cut through everything. Antonio shoved Karina toward the woman almost absently, staring up at the slice of sky he could see overhead. Dust from the explosions already darkened the canyon, the airships blocking out even more of the sky and the sun’s light. Something new darted around the airships, the jagged wings silhouetted against the paler colors of the airships. “The Bats!” Antonio said, pointing at them. 

Marcus joined him, leaning against the rail to watch, his neck craned back. “Those aren’t the Black Bats,” he said, “they’re too big. What…” his eyes widened as he looked at Antonio. “What are those things?”

They screamed and wheeled like the bats, but Antonio finally saw tails, whipping around behind the bodies, bodies far larger than a person with a pair of sail wings. One of them charged an airship, ripping at the envelope with its claws. The ship faltered, tipping nose-downward into Death Canyon. The creature back-winged, giving Antonio a good view of what it was. “It’s the dragons,” he breathed. “They’re riding the dragons!” He leaped into the air, flinging his fist at the sky. “Yeah!”

“Whoa,” Marcus whispered. “I wanna ride one of those.” He pulled himself up on the railing, straining to see more. “I bet if we took the tunnels, we could get up high enough to see them!”

  
Art by Dzioo [DeviantArt](http://dzioo.deviantart.com/)   


The dragons wheeled and spun in the air, diving and circling and rising over the airships. Bullets traced after them, sending one spinning out of the sky as it screamed, crashing into the valley floor.

“Yeah,” Antonio said, shading his eyes. He took a step backward. “C’mon, let’s - ”

A hard hand grabbed hold of Antonio’s ear, dragging him backward despite his screeches of pain. “Get in here! Didn’t you hear me?” Marcus grunted and fussed next to Antonio, but the woman pulled them both into the cave. She didn’t let go once they were inside, either, forcing them even farther into the cave, back where the explosions just seemed to rock the floor. “You little fools,” the woman scolded, “when the airships come over, you go into hiding!” Wagging a finger at them, she pointed to Karina. She waited for them, wide-eyed, gnawing on her knuckles. “Go take care of her, and if you go back outside, I’ll throw you over the edge of the cliff myself!” 

Marcus made a face, but joined Karina next to the wall, taking her hand. Antonio squatted down next to them, putting his hat on and pulling it tight down over his ears. The stone all around muffled the noise of the explosions, but they still shook the floor and walls. Karina whined and buried her face in her folded arms. Marcus’s skin was white in the gloom of the cave, the oil lanterns blown out to keep from breaking open and catching things on fire. Somewhere, someone was crying, a soft sob that echoed around the cavern. Antonio covered his ears and pressed his face against his knees, just wanting it to be over soon. 

X X X

The clarion blasted through the carved tunnels under Table City, jolting Julia out of her reveries. She reached for her boots as the door to her quarters banged open, Andrea poking her head through. “We’re needed!” 

“I know, I hear!” Julia waved a hand toward the ceiling of her quarters, indicating the sound reverberating off the stone. Tugging her boots on, she stomped her feet into the soles. She flexed her automail toes in her boot, hoping it was on right. Pulling a thick hat over her head and tying it in place, she grabbed her flight jacket from where it hung on the back of a chair and slipped her arms through the sleeves. Andrea jigged from one foot to the other until Julia pushed through the door past her. They raced to the aerie. Already, other riders were in place, tacking their dragons up for flight. The dragons screeched and whined, wings flapping and tails lashing at the excitement.  
“Where’s Brena?” 

“Ernest took her,” someone shouted, and Julia recognized Daniel’s voice. “Celsus and Otho are out there, too, doing what they can. Get your headsets on now.” 

Tightening the chin strap to her flight helmet, Julia tried to control her emotions before running down to the dragas’s aerie. The female dragons picked up on the mood of the men and women in the stable area. “Marina!” Julia made her voice a croon rather than shrill. She slipped under the canvas barricade, offering her outstretched hand. Her reddish dragon tossed her head, hissing her annoyance at this change in her routine. “Easy, Marina.” Julia laid her hand on the orange-red muzzle, and the dragon lowered her head, allowing a quick caress before she pulled out of reach again. “Let’s get you saddled up, and go face Creta.” 

As she tacked up Marina, Julia could hear Daniel on the radio, ordering two teams of five out, the rest of the dragons and riders to remain behind. “Be ready. If Creta gets past our defense, you’ll be all that will keep Milos safe,” he crackled. 

Julia nodded grimly, leading Marina along the stable corridor toward the launching area. Marina’s crest flared, her hiss loud enough to incite the remaining draga. 

“Be safe, Julia. Fly well!” someone shouted.

She waved in agreement, joining the rest of the dragons at the launch area. 

“We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Daniel led Alion, his dragon, to the launch base. He called over his shoulder, “I want a loose formation. We want to keep ourselves and our dragons safe. Remember to take advantage of your dragon’s maneuverability! Does everyone have rifles at ready?”

“Ready!” most of the riders shouted, Julia touching the barrel of her rifle lightly before swinging onto Marina’s back. 

“What do we do if we have a problem?” Andrea shouted from the back of her green dragon, Helios.

Daniel’s face was grim behind his flight goggles. “Do what you can to protect yourself! Remember, Creta has both bombs and machine guns. Keep your head! It’s a more dangerous weapon than a bomb. Keep yourself and your dragons safe.” He swung up onto his dragon, gathering the reins and urging Alion into the air. His team followed him, then Julia, Andrea and the rest of their team took off. 

Julia’s heart seemed to leap into her throat, thudding against the fragile skin there. Here, in the canyon, as Marina beat her wings to gain altitude, she could hear the sounds of gun- and cannon-fire. Smoke and fine debris clouded the air they flew through. Julia pulled her scarf up over her nose and mouth. Marina hissed, disliking the clouded air. She tried to pull higher to get over it, but Julia soothed her, keeping her within the debris, wanting to use it as cover as long as she could. Andrea and Helios flew just off her left flank, about half a wing’s length away. 

The clouds gave way to clear air and Marina roared her pleasure, beating her wings harder, trying to get the lift needed to soar. Death Canyon had many updrafts and thermals, and the dragons and their riders knew them all. Banking near a cliff wall, Marina caught an updraft and rose so fast, Julia’s stomach felt like it slammed down into her pelvis. The other dragons rode the thermal, their shadows falling on the red rock walls. 

Julia heard the gunfire, but even by craning her neck, she couldn’t see any airships yet. Marina popped up over the cliff wall, giving Julia the view she needed. Smiling grimly, she turned Marina toward the airships. More to the east, Daniel and Alion led a charge against the ships. Touching her headset, Julia said, “Let’s try to get behind them, and cut off their retreat!” Miranda and she had worked out plans on how to use the Black Bats against Creta, now Miranda’s teachings lived on in the aerial combat of the dragons and the airships. 

“Julia!” Andrea shouted in her headpiece. “Julia, we have to go north!”

North? Julia shot a glance back at her friend, who stabbed a gloved finger. Turning her head, Julia gasped out loud. Another airship slipped along near the Creta cliffside border, out of range of Daniel’s team. Julia tapped her headset. “North! We need to stop that airship!” Marina bellowed her annoyance at being turned away from her prey, until she spotted the new airship. Beating her wings, she surged forward. Thankful the harness kept her attached to the saddle, Julia reached for her rifle. Making sure a round was chambered, she tapped her headset again. “Everyone prepare for the attack. Bernardo, you and Andrea take the left flank. I know it’s farther away, so you two go now.” She didn’t wait to make sure they followed her command. “Miguel, Juan, take the right flank. We need to stop that ship.” Urging Marina forward, she rotated her forefinger in the air then flung her hand forward, indicating the attack. 

“On it, Julia!” Miguel shouted as his burgandy-red dragon leaped forward. 

Julia guided Marina with her knees, straight at the rear end of the airship. She wasn’t close enough to take aim, but it wouldn’t be long before she was. 

“Julia!” Andrea’s wail ripped through her headset. “There’s a train on the tracks! The ship’s heading right for it!” 

X X X 

The whistling roar of a cannonball was like nothing Edward had ever heard. It crashed through the side of the train car, flinders flying everywhere. The ball smashed into the wall, rolling, and Edward raised his head from Winry’s back to track it. Flashing sparks confirmed a hissing sound. “Bomb!” he screamed, raising his hands to press his palms together, the transmutation circle forming in his mind faster than the realization he could do nothing. 

Next to him, Alphonse scrambled onto his knees, the bell-chime accompanying the clap of his hands ricocheting in the broken space. Blue lightning exploded from his hands as he touched the floor. A ripple opened up into a hole, the bomb dropping through. It exploded as it rolled down, the shock wave thundering up through the car. 

Winry squeaked as their part of the train pushed up into the air, the metal groaning. Edward and Winry slammed into Alphonse, the seat legs pinning the three of them together. Alphonse grunted. “Al,” Edward said, forcing a question into that simple syllable. 

“I’m fine,” he growled, struggling to get his elbows free of their weight. 

Underneath Edward, Winry trembled, and he wished he could tell her everything was going to be fine. Instead, he braced his feet against the wall of the car, hoping he wasn’t pressing against glass. He didn’t risk a glance down. “We have to get out of here.” 

“Suggestions welcome,” Alphonse grumbled. 

“A hole for us to get to the tracks?” Winry said, only the faintest quaver in her voice. 

Alphonse gave her a look that Edward read as, ‘why didn’t I think of that?’ He clapped his hands together, and opened a hole just beyond their seats, a ladder leading down to the track below. “You go first, Winry.” 

“You’re closer!” 

“Stop arguing!” Edward growled. “They could be sending another bomb!” 

Winry stiffened at his words. Alphonse’s eyes narrowed sharply as he said, “Then I should go last. Both of you need to go.”

“Yeah, Winry, go on.” Edward gave her the slightest shove. She met his eyes, and he wished she hadn’t. She’d always been able to read him too well. “Go. Al and I’ll be right behind you.” Managing a smile, he made his fingers release their grip on her, thinking he’d probably left bruises behind. Not caring. Edward brushed the tips of his fingers over her bare arm as Winry eased toward Alphonse cautiously. 

The metal groaned under her, but Alphonse didn’t let Winry hesitate. Catching her elbow, he urged her on, even though he had push himself up so she could wriggle beneath him to get to the hole. “You’re next, Ed.” 

“Al,” he grated out. 

Alphonse narrowed his eyes, helping Winry balance on the rungs of the ladder. “You’re next,” he repeated, brooking no argument. 

If Alphonse was anyone else, Edward would argue, but he’d beaten his brother only once that he could remember. Showing his displeasure by baring his teeth, Edward wriggled over to the hole, dodging Alphonse the best he could. In his head, he counted seconds from the last bomb hitting the train car to now. The train stopped moving – had the engine been hit, too? He didn’t want to think about it, but it worried him. The car should’ve been pulled apart by the force of the explosion and the tug of the engine. If that had happened, he wouldn’t be scrambling down a skinny ladder with his brother’s feet in his face. 

Winry squatted between the rails, her face so pale, she looked like she’d bled out. Edward dropped next to her, laying his hand in the center of her back for a second. From under the train car, they were hidden, and the car overhead blocked part of the sun’s blaring light. He watched as the ship drew closer. The cannon’s mouth looked huge, even at this distance. “Al!”

“On it!” Alphonse let go of the ladder, staggering ever so slightly. Edward grabbed his leg, holding on tight until his brother steadied himself. With a quick nod, Alphonse indicated he was all right, and knelt next to Winry. He peered out at the ship, and Edward knew Alphonse had to be thinking the same thing – even as close as it was, a transmuted rock spear wouldn’t reach it. Alphonse transmuted a hole in the land bridge, another ladder, leading down. “Go!” 

The boom of the cannon made Winry freeze. Edward felt her stiffen beside him as he turned toward the cannon. Alphonse swore as he clapped his hands, making a wall, pushing it up into the train car. The ground underfoot rumbled and the metal above wailed. Edward wrapped his arms around Winry. She grabbed Alphonse’s arm, clinging to them both. Alphonse shoved them all, and the last thing Edward remembered was the sensation of falling, before his head struck something on the way down.


	3. Riders on the Storm

**Chapter Three: Riders on the Storm  
Land Bridge, between Amestris and Milos**

A slow roll of thunder woke Alphonse. 

He stared up, seeing something red and jagged overhead, and, above that, a wreck of some sort he couldn’t quite identify. A chill breeze caressed him, raising gooseflesh on his arms. He turned his head, wondering at the red film obscuring his vision. Blinking a couple of times, he managed to clear his sight enough to see something big, drifting down. Alphonse thought he heard sirens. The sound resolved itself to someone screaming, then, abruptly, it cut off, as if someone, somewhere had flipped a switch. He knew it should bother him, but right now, at the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

His ears felt like they’d been stuffed with cotton. So did his throat. Licking his lips, he tasted salt and a tang he thought he recognized from somewhere; a particular, metallic flavor. Some horrible smells combined in the air that even the breeze couldn’t blow away. Alphonse’s left eye kept blurring oddly, but after trying to wipe it clear once, it seemed too much work to try again. 

He shivered, wishing he had a blanket. Or better, that he wasn’t outside. Why was he outside, anyway? And what was with the smoke? He couldn’t remember, and his head ached too much for him to give much thought to the questions. 

The sound came again, and Alphonse realized he could hear his heart beating: _Schwoop, schwoop, schwoop._ Each beat seemed to come a little more slowly. The sound began to get louder, but that didn’t quite seem right. He wasn’t doing anything to make his heart beat any harder. 

Alphonse risked moving his head, and couldn’t make sense of what he saw. More unforgiving and forbidding than anything he could recall, the creature almost, but not quite, resembled one of his brother’s transmutations, but gone terribly awry. 

The heartbeat increased in volume. Letting his head loll back, Alphonse winced when it boomed off something metal. He kept his eyes open through the flash of pain. His mouth dropped open at the sight of what hung in the air above him. 

Broad wings, like those of a bat, stirred the smoke away from the body of the creature, an animal Alphonse had only ever seen in drawings before. A dragon landed on the train car, a rider on its back. The dragon craned its neck and seemed to stare straight down at him, then let loose with a thin wail. 

Alphonse wondered at the sight overhead, but even his curiosity began to fail him. Exhaustion in the shape of a grey cloud coaxed him to return to the dark space he’d been in previously. He succumbed to the weight of his eyelids, letting them drift closed, taking him into unconsciousness.

X X X

Smoke boiled up into the air from the bombs that hit the train, making it harder to know if anyone survived. Julia radioed in the attack to Daniel and Otho, the other two wing leaders, ignoring their responses so she could check the existing cars. The locomotive engine dangled in a cavern created by a bomb, and, though Julia sent Marina in close, she couldn’t tell if anyone had lived. 

Grimacing, she tapped her headset. “We need to look for survivors! I need someone to get on the train. I’m going to check the engine.” 

“Julia, you’re not going in there,” Bernardo called over the air. “You are too valuable!” 

She gritted her teeth. “Who’s going to do it?” 

“I’m lightest,” Andrea said through the radio connection.

Julia looked around, spotting her friend. Andrea gave her a thumb’s up, making Julia sigh. “All right, you go, but be very, very careful.” 

“I will. And you be careful, too!” Andrea guided Helios down on the land bridge, patting her dragon before spooling out a strand of cable, attaching it to her harness before she dismounted. As Julia watched, Andrea attached the other end of the cable to Helios’s chest band. There were more pressing matters than what her friend was doing, so Julia turned Marina toward the train cars. 

Bernardo said over the radio, “I’ll take the back third, if you can take the middle.” 

“All right.” Julia nodded. Bernardo’s dragon, Belios, was one of the steadiest and strongest of the males. Bernardo would be able to rappel down onto the train and do a search. Julia knew Marina could land on the cliff, let her off, and fly away until she was needed again, as long as the stone wasn’t too damaged by the explosion. The train cars looked relatively steady, though, those not smoking from Cretan bombs, and Marina landed cautiously on one of them. The car rocked a little underneath her weight, but seemed steady enough, though the roof bowed and made warping sounds as Marina settled. 

From the east side of the canyon, Julia could see hints of blue – Amestrian military, readying itself to move out onto the land bridge. She wondered if they’d come on foot or take hand cars in an attempt to rescue their countrymen still on the train. Whichever, they wouldn’t be here fast enough. The bombs and cannons made the land bridge too unstable for crossing from Amestris. “Stay here, Marina,” Julia said. Clipping the cable to her harness, she attached it to Marina’s saddle before unhooking her harness from the saddle anchors. She slid from the saddle to the roof of the train car, making sure of her footing. “I’ll careful,” she told the dragon, who croaked at her. 

Crouching low to keep from being blown off the train car by an errant breeze, Julia half-crawled to the end of the train car. A ladder helped her descend to the platform between the cars. Giving a quick tug to the cable, she made sure that her knots held, and reached across to the next car, opening the door. A quick glance inside revealed supplies destined for Milos. She couldn’t see any people. “Is anyone there?” Cupping her hand around her ear, she strained to hear even a hint of a voice. “Hello?” The only sound she heard was Marina shifting on the car above, and the metal protesting her weight. Blowing out a sigh, Julia turned on the platform and opened the door, stepping inside. 

It was another supply car, more purchases from Amestris. If there was a way to ferry these supplies to Milos, it needed to happen. Grimly, she spoke into her radio mic. “I have two cars of supplies so far, no people.” 

“Got it, Julia,” Daniel’s steady voice answered. She thought he and Otho might be flying point by this time, making sure Creta didn’t try another attack. “Right now, concentrate on finding people.” 

As if she wouldn’t. The cable would only reach halfway through the car, not letting her go any farther without detaching. She’d have to climb up on the roof, walk across it, and then climb back down to check the next car. Grumbling under her breath, Julia made the decision, unclipping the cable and walking quickly through the car. At least the aisle was steadier than the roof. Reaching the end of the car, she opened the door, hopping across the partition to the next car. Pulling the door open, she saw yet another supply car, and made her way through it. 

The metal around her groaned, and Julia froze. Her heart thundered in her ears and she wondered at her stupidity for unclipping the cable from her harness. Carefully, she shifted her weight to her forward foot, waiting for a few seconds. The metal whined. Julia glanced from side to side, considering her options, then slowly squatted down to the floor. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a piece of chalk, quickly sketching a transmutation circle. She reviewed it twice before she touched the circle, transmuting the metal within the car, welding the wheels to the track, forcing metal spikes into the stone below. With a grin, Julia trotted through the car and opened the door. 

The wind gusted through the door, catching her hair and spinning it around her face. If not for her goggles, the strands would’ve whipped into her eyes. Wincing, Julia braced herself against the door frame, clasping the railing as she studied the sight in front of her. 

Cracked like an egg, part of the car jutted up into the air. The other part of the car dangled off the land bridge, creaking and moaning. Broken-out windows showed this car had been designed for passengers, which meant there might be survivors. Julia shook her head, thinking she couldn’t dare go into the car without her harness hooked up. Squatting down, she craned her head, trying to see up into the car, but the window on the door seemed dark. She tapped her fingers on the railing, not standing up yet, glancing around, making sure it was still safe in the air. 

A cloud moved from in front of the sun, and something glinted from under the train car. Julia squinted, trying to make out what it was, why it looked familiar. A gasp escaped her as she recognized the form as a ladder, leading down to a dark spot under the train. Fumbling at her headset, Julia said, “I may have survivors! Under the train car.” She still didn’t want to go under there without her harness attached to anything, but she could be able to stabilize the car from falling. 

She ran through the cars, grabbing the cable and attaching it to her harness before climbing the ladder up to Marina. “I have to transmute this train car to stabilize the next one,” she told the dragon. “It could get a little scary.” Julia hooked her harness back to Marina’s saddle. “Come on, we need to get closer to that other car.” 

They made their careful way to the other end of the car, and Julia deliberated on her next action. She could make the metal they stood on too thin to support their weight, but if she sent Marina into the air, she’d lose her anchor. Gritting her teeth, she decided it couldn’t be helped, and drew the transmutation circle. Marina made a curious sound as Julia transmuted the train car, the metal stretching to join with the broken car. The metal whined as it reformed, providing a frame to keep the broken car steady. Julia swallowed hard, shaking her bangs out of her eyes as she completed the transmutation. “All right, Marina, I’m going down there.” She unhooked her harness from the saddle. Marina nudged her gently, shifting her weight cautiously on the transmuted car. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Giving Marina a reassuring smile, though she didn’t know if the dragon really understood it, Julia swung down the ladder and, holding onto the railings, she climbed off the cars and onto the train track. 

Underneath the car, the air was colder, making her skin prickle. Julia crept forward, crouched, her spine curled to keep her center of gravity low. The cable paid out behind her as she reached the dark spot she’d seen from above. A clatter of wings and claws on metal startled her enough to nearly lose her balance. Glancing up, she recognized Bernardo’s dragon, landing on the other half of the car. Julia hissed into her radio, “What do you think you’re doing, Bernardo?” 

“Thought you might need some help,” he said, not at all apologetic. His dragon snorted, then let out a low whine. “Belios sees something!”

“Keep him up there!” Julia squinted. The markings showed the hole had been transmuted into the land bridge. Taking a deep breath, she called, “Hello?” as she leaned over the opening. 

Dust still plumed in there, disturbed by the air drifting around. Julia shoved her hair back, squinting through her goggles. A tangle of limbs showed through the cloud. “Hey!” she called again. “Are you hurt?” 

A faint moan came as an answer. Julia realized the hole had been transmuted with shelves – steps – in the wall, and she tested the first one with her left foot. When it held, she climbed down into the hole. 

The smell of dirt combined with the sharp copper scent of blood. Julia curled her lip, pulling her scarf up over her nose again to keep from breathing it all in. She had to stop before she reached the bottom of the hole, unable to descend farther because of the bodies in the way. The one on top was a man. Blood coated his face and soaked into the collar and upper part of his jacket. His eyelids fluttered open, and Julia nearly pulled back in surprise. Instead, she leaned closer. “You’re safe.” 

“J-Jul…?” 

“It’s going to be all right,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t shake so much. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.” The man reached a trembling hand toward her and Julia caught it, squeezing his cold fingers. She tapped the headset. “Daniel! I’ve found some – three, and they’re alive. They need medical help, and we’re under a train car.” 

“Under a car?” Daniel repeated, astonished. 

“It’s the car that’s broken in two pieces. They must be alchemists.” She couldn’t keep going down that path, she had to concentrate on getting these three out of here safely. “I need help, Daniel.”

“I’ll be right there, Julia,” he promised. 

“Julia, I’m coming down,” Bernardo called into the headset. 

“Be careful! This whole thing looks ready to fall apart.” Julia turned her attention back to the bleeding man. “You’ll be all right,” she repeated, and gently pried her hand free. Closing her eyes, she remembered the transmutation circle she’d only seen – only used – once before, and drew it from memory with the sticky blood on her finger tip. She touched the circle, blue light sparking up from the lines. At least she could patch this man up until they could get him to the healers in Table City.

**Table City, Milos**

For a few seconds, Edward couldn’t understand the dim light. The smell didn’t offer any clues, either – a combination of cleaning supplies, gas lights, and the cool scent of stone. Underneath that, he thought he caught the flavor of death and sickness. His head buzzed like a disturbed hornet’s nest, but that didn’t stop Edward from lifting it. He tried to puzzle out where he was, now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. 

He still couldn’t see quite right, but Edward squinted past the blurring. A curtain sequestered him off from the rest of the room. The walls were reddish-yellow, and gleamed in the dimmed gas lights. The sight of them tickled at his memory. He knew them somehow, he realized, but the realization was drowned out by an urgent question: Where were Al and Winry? 

“Hey!” Edward sat up, gritting his teeth at the pain in his head. Damn it, had he gotten another concussion? “Hey! Nurse!” Yeah, that was the smell – this was some sort of underground hospital. Swinging his feet over the side of the cot, he had to wait a few seconds for the room to stop spinning before trying to stand. His first step made him wince. His automail squealed in protest, and Edward grabbed the cot to keep from falling over. “Shit!” Winry was going to kill him. Well, if he could find her. Righting himself, Edward used his hip to swing his leg as if it was one big chunk of metal. At least now he could walk, and made his way slowly to the curtain. “Hello?” 

Pushing the curtain aside, Edward hissed through his teeth. “Al!” He hobbled to the cot, almost tripping when he reached it. Flinging his hand out for balance, Edward hit a tray with an enamel bowl on it, sending it flying. Water spilled everywhere, splashing him, but he ignored it to collapse onto the cot at Alphonse’s feet. Edward hesitated, but reached over, shaking Alphonse’s knee. “Al?” 

“Hnn,” Alphonse sighed. He opened his eyes with a yawn. It took a second or two for him to focus, and as soon as he did, he asked, “Ed, what’d you do to yourself?” 

“Huh?” Edward touched his head, feeling a bandage wrapped around it under his bangs. “What?”

Alphonse raised a finger to wag it at Edward’s face. “You’ve got two black eyes, and there’s a blood stain on the bandage. I guess that old scar above your eyebrow opened again.” 

The two black eyes probably explained his headache and why he couldn’t see right, but not the rest of the pains pulsing through his body at the same rate of his heart beat. 

At least Alphonse seemed okay, just tired. A bandage wrapped around his neck, right shoulder and upper torso, but no blood stained the linens. “You look good,” Edward said. 

“I hurt.” Alphonse said it almost as if it was a personal affront. “But you look awful and you’re walking around.” 

Edward snorted. “We were in a.” He cut himself off abruptly, the disjointed memories in his head a shock. “We were in a train wreck,” he finally whispered, staring at Alphonse.

Tightening his fingers around his blanket, Alphonse asked in a hushed voice, “Where’s Winry?”

Already halfway to his feet, Edward said, “I’ll find out.” His leg made a horrible sound before he remembered to swing it from his hip rather than expect it to bend. Stumping toward the door with curtains stretched across it to provide privacy, he shoved aside the thick fabric. Edward noted gaslights lining the corridor in either direction, and other curtained doors studded one wall. “Which way,” he muttered to himself, glancing from side to side. He grabbed the door frame to keep from falling at the wave of dizziness that nearly drowned him. His heart beat wildly and he tried to remember Izumi’s teachings about how to control his breathing, and with it, his body, but this was Winry, and if something had happened to her – 

“Ed! Do you see her?” Alphonse called from his cot. Edward could hear him getting up, and started to tell him to stay where he was, but a head popped out between curtains a few doorways down. 

A pretty young woman stepped out of the curtain. The hall was quiet enough Edward could hear her automail. He recognized her before she took two steps. “Julia!” 

She started, her eyes widening. “Ed!” Julia didn’t run to him, but she did catch his hands in hers when she got close enough, giving them a squeeze. “You shouldn’t even be out of bed! I didn’t realize you were so badly hurt.” 

Edward let her keep hold of his hands, even though he wanted to pull free. “I’m fine, Julia, but I need to know where Winry is.” 

Julia turned her face away. “She was underneath both of you.” She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “She’s here! She’s alive. But she’s unconscious and – Ed!”

Jerking free without even realizing it, Edward fell back against the wall, trying to remember which door Julia had come out of. “Where is she?” 

“Ed,” Julia held up her hands. 

“Where is she!” 

“Ed!” Alphonse somehow appeared in front of him, swaying from side to side. “Calm down, Brother!” He grabbed Edward’s shoulders, halfway holding him up, halfway restraining him. “This isn’t helping.” 

Edward wrapped his hands around Alphonse’s wrists in preparation to push him away. “Al,” he warned. “Let -”

“Al?” Julia pressed her fingers to her mouth, the shock in her voice making both brothers glance her way. “You…this is…I mean, I thought – hoped…you have your body back!” Edward gaped as she shook her head. “We’ll talk about that later. Winry, I can take you to her, you can see – both of you. You can see her.” She peered at both of them, biting her lip until Edward let go of Alphonse’s wrists and Alphonse dropped his hands from Edward’s shoulders. “But you have to be quiet. Winry doesn’t need the excitement.” Giving Edward a sharp frown, Julia grumbled, “I’m not sure you do, either.” 

Edward didn’t quite sneer in response, but the intent was there. Alphonse mouthed, ‘Be good,’ and he restrained himself, clenching his hands into fists. He didn’t have pockets to shove them in – these clothes weren’t his. He wore a robe and a pair of drawstring pants, and nothing else, not even underpants. Trying not to think about who might’ve undressed him, Edward followed Julia down the hall. 

Alphonse walked next to him. “Julia,” he asked, “Did I see you? I mean, I thought…”

She turned to look at Alphonse over her shoulder. “Mm. I found you.” Her smile faltered, and she glanced away. “I had to use alchemy to stop the bleeding.” Sounding grim, Julia added, “The alchemy – I remembered it from when I healed my brother.” 

“Julia.” Alphonse tensed beside Edward. “You shouldn’t have.” 

“You were dying, Al.” Julia gave him a lopsided smile. “I wasn’t going to let you die, even if I didn’t recognize you.” Her cheeks colored. “I didn’t recognize you! You look so different.” 

Alphonse sighed, relaxing. “Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“After Winry,” Edward reminded, stubborn and needing to see her. If he wasn’t walking, he knew he’d be shaking. Knowing she was alive helped, but Julia’s reaction worried him more than he could put into words. 

Julia shot a glance his way this time. “Of course. She’s right in here.” Pushing aside a curtain, she let Edward enter ahead of her. 

What struck him first was how still Winry was; how pale her skin, like she could vanish into the dull fabric swaddling her. A man stood over her bed, taking her pulse, and he frowned at Edward as if in warning. He ignored it, clumping to Winry’s cot. Once he reached it, he didn’t know what to do. If he sat on the edge, his weight might tip it over; if he just stood above her like a statue, she wouldn’t know he was here. 

“Winry,” Alphonse said, startling Edward. He stepped sideways so Alphonse could take Winry’s free hand in both of his. 

The man’s scowl took them both in, but Julia intervened before he could speak. “Dr. Hoffman, these are the Elric brothers, Edward and Alphonse. They’re friends of mine. Ed, Al, this is Dr. Hoffman. He saw you two earlier.” 

“Thank you,” Alphonse said, and Edward nodded jerkily. His throat wasn’t working well enough to say anything at this point. “Can you tell us what’s wrong with her?”

“Besides a train wreck?” Dr. Hoffman asked, his beard twitching, like he thought it was funny. Edward couldn’t help his growl, and the doctor’s brow furrowed in response. “Your friend was brought in unconscious. You,” he nodded at Edward, “woke up a couple of times, and your brother regained consciousness during transport here.” 

Alphonse shrugged slightly as Edward muttered, “I don’t remember waking up.” 

“You weren’t very coherent,” Dr. Hoffman said, “you did ask a question, or I assume it was a question, and the other time,” he glanced at Julia.

She spread her hands, offering Edward a sheepish smile. “You swore a lot.” 

“That sounds like Ed.” Alphonse smirked. 

Ignoring his brother, Edward asked Dr. Hoffman, “So, why isn’t Winry awake?” 

He gestured at her blanket rather than pulling it off to show them. “She has a couple of fractured ribs, but those have no real bearing on her current state. It’s the concussion that worries me. She should have woken by now.” Hoffman’s mouth tightened. “Other than that, she’s stable. She does have some bruises, scrapes and cuts, but it’s to be expected. 

Edward spotted one of the bruises, a purple bloom down her left arm. The dark color probably matched his black eyes. “So, how long will she stay unconscious?” 

The question made Dr. Hoffman pause, peering at Edward over his glasses. “I don’t really know, Mr. Elric.” His grey eyes softened a bit. “I hope she’ll wake soon. Is she your sister?” 

“No, our friend,” Alphonse answered as Edward chewed over the word ‘sister’, trying to keep from shuddering. Winry was no sister to him. 

“Well, you three should count yourselves lucky Julia and her fellow Riders were out there. I doubt you would’ve survived much longer.” 

Alphonse gulped, glancing down at Winry, while Edward folded his arms, ignoring the ache in his shoulder from the movement. “So, how many lived?” He braced himself for the answer, seeing the way both Julia’s and the doctor’s faces fell. 

“I’m afraid you three were the only ones we found alive,” Julia murmured, reaching across the cot to squeeze Alphonse’s shoulder. 

The words spun around in Edward’s head like a flock of carrion birds. Their wheeling and swooping staggered him, and his flesh leg gave out at his shock. 

“Ed!” Alphonse shouted, but his brother’s voice sounded faint and distant. Sitting down heavily, Edward vaguely felt stone beneath his thighs and butt. The cold seeped through the hospital clothes before the spinning words crashed down on his head, the blow of them more than he could take.


	4. Imagine Dragons

**Chapter Four: Imagine Dragons  
Border City, West Amestris**

Lieutenant General Pamela Sterling chewed on her lower lip, staring out over the damage done by the Cretan attack. The land bridge attaching Milos to Amestris fell in ruins, with gaping holes where silver rails once ran. A couple of train cars still sat on the tracks, unable to go forward or back with the holes trapping them.

“Sir,” Captain Mensch said, from behind her. “Orders?”

“I need to find out how many of our people are in Milos,” she said. “Get that information for me. I want it on my desk in two hours.” Looking down into Death Canyon, she stared at the still-smoking remains of the aircraft that had wreaked such havoc. “I need to notify the Fuhrer of Creta’s air capabilities. I need any witnesses we have interviewed. I want a list of their names and I want to see them today, so we can assess what kind of damage Creta can cause with these ships.” Raising her gaze, she looked across the ruined rail line to where it ended in Milos. “And I want to know if anyone was aware that Milos had…animals capable of flight.” She didn’t want to say ‘dragons’, the word conjured up too many fantasies. “Can you get the information to me, Mensch?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice particularly nasal today. She guessed it was from the dust in the air. “I’ll get right on it.” 

“Thank you. And Mensch, I’ll need your eyes and ears with me during the interviews.” 

“Yes, sir.” Sterling heard the click of his boots tapping together and the sharp snap of his stride as he walked away. Letting out a sigh, Sterling shook her head. Amestris wasn’t prepared for an air attack, and it was up to her to tell the Fuhrer of their failings. She closed her eyes, not looking forward to this conversation. 

“Sir? Lieutenant General Sterling?” 

She turned to see a lieutenant, racking her brain to come up with his name. Returning his salute, she said, “Lieutenant Gomez. How can I help you?” 

“Sir.” He shifted his weight almost imperceptibly. Something bothered him enough to send him to her directly, rather than to go up the chain of command. “I heard you tell Captain Mensch you wanted the names of all the Amestrians currently in Milos.” Gomez tightened his jaw muscle, obviously debating whether he should speak further or not. 

Sterling took the decision away from him. “Any knowledge you have would be helpful, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.” He straightened his shoulders. “Today, before the attack, I was on duty with Sergeant Rodriguez. We – I – passed three Amestrians through the border into Milos.” Gomez met her gaze steadily as he said, “One of them was the Fullmetal Alchemist, sir.” 

Whatever she’d been expecting Gomez to have said, that certainly wasn’t it. “Thank you for the information, Lieutenant,” she said, turning it over in her mind, “is there anything else?” 

“Without checking my records, no, sir, but I will get on it immediately.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You can report to either Captain Mensch or me.” Sterling saluted and Gomez returned the salute, spinning on the toe of his boot and marching off, double time. Sterling didn’t watch him leave, turning back around to face Milos, and the broken railway line. She’d heard stories of the Fullmetal Alchemist – who hadn’t? – but she thought he’d been decommissioned. If he died on the way to Milos from Creta’s attack, and he wasn’t decommissioned, his death could be considered an act of war. She wished Gomez had contacted her before allowing the train to proceed into Milos’s territory, but, as a State Alchemist, Fullmetal would’ve outranked Gomez, and could’ve ordered the lieutenant to let him pass anyway. 

Sterling shouted, “Do we have any way to contact Milos at this time?” 

“No, sir!” a lieutenant shouted back. “Our communication lines were destroyed in the attack. And at this point, no one is responding to our radio hails.” 

“Keep me apprised. If someone answers our hail, I want to be notified immediately, any time, day or night.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

Knowing she was only putting off the onerous duty, Sterling appointed a lieutenant colonel to report to her if there were any changes, and marched back to her office to make the call to the Fuhrer’s office. She needed a meeting with her current staff, and after she spoke to HQ, she’d have Mensch schedule it. They had to prepare for any future attacks, and also for any refugees who might make their way across Death Canyon and up through the cliffs making up Amestris’s border. Sterling allowed herself a smile. It might not be Briggs Mountain, and Drachma’s continuous nipping at her heels, but this might be a way to promote herself to the Fuhrer. Yes, she thought, she needed all the information she could get, as soon as possible, to start her own plans. And, if the Fullmetal Alchemist survived Creta’s attack, having him in Milos would be another feather in her cap.

**Table City, Milos**

Everything was dark, and cold, and the only source of warmth came from the pain pulsing through her body. Winry knew something horrible had to have happened, but she couldn’t quite remember what. Whatever it was, the memory wasn’t there, but she could feel it, hovering just out of reach. Maybe she didn’t want to know what had happened; why her head and ribs and whole body ached the way it did. It hurt to even consider opening her eyes. Still, the pressure on her hand let her know she needed to.

One eyelid peeled up almost easily, but the other seemed harder to get open. Winry persevered, finally blinking at a dark ceiling overhead. She hoped it was a ceiling. A dim, blurry light shone on what she thought might be a wall. It curved, and reminded her of those mining tunnels where she’d spent so much time in Baschool. Her eyes closed again, and she nearly let herself retreat into sleep, but a soft mumble caught her attention. 

Turning her head made a team of blacksmiths start hammering inside her skull, but Winry finally managed to focus on a blob of shaggy gold resting on her stomach. She studied it for a little while, recognizing it as hair. _Edward’s_ hair. He held her hand; the pressure she’d felt. She tried to say his name. 

Only a croak came out, but enough to startle him awake. Edward jerked his head off her stomach, wide eyes searching her face. “Winry?” 

“Uh huh,” she whispered, nodding, and wishing she hadn’t. The blacksmiths pounded even harder in her head. 

She almost missed the slow smile taking over Edward’s mouth, erasing the shadows from his face. “Damn it, Winry.” He brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “You scared me.” 

Without the weight of his head on it, her belly felt cold. His fingers warmed her face where they touched her. “How?” 

“Automail geek.” Cupping her cheek, Edward pulled the hand that held hers close to his chest. “You weren’t awake before me, scolding me about how I screwed up your leg.” 

Winry squinted at Edward, unsure in the dim light. Somehow, she didn’t dare ask if he was crying. “I’ll scold you later.” 

“Deal.” Somehow, his smile grew, but it wasn’t the scary, skull-splitting smile Edward liked to show off, but a kinder one. Winry had seen a lot of that smile since the brothers returned from their journey. She couldn’t help but like it, and the way it fit on Edward’s face. It didn’t make him look crazy, like his other, wicked smile did. “How do you feel?” he asked.

She didn’t have to think on his question. “It hurts.” 

“Uh huh.” Edward nodded, and Winry finally noticed the bandage around his head. A splotch of blood marred the fabric. “Do you remember why it hurts?”

“No.” Her answer came pretty quick, too. Though it made her head ache, Winry frowned. “What happened? Is Al okay?”

“He’s in better shape than we are. An alchemist healed him. We didn’t get the same treatment!” From his tone of voice, Edward found it funny. “He’s getting me something to eat.” He glanced sideways, away from her, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. His mouth opened and closed again, before he turned back to her. “Winry, we were in a train wreck. Do you remember? A Cretan airship attacked the train, and blew up our car.” 

Her headache worsened as Winry tried to follow Edward’s story. An image flashed in her mind’s eye, of a wooden boat, hanging beneath a cloud. She remembered Edward’s face, his expression as darkening, how horrified he was. How he’d grabbed her, and held her close, as the train whistle screamed a challenge to the approaching ship. 

“I remember.” She wished she didn’t, not with the memory of the airship filling her vision over Edward’s shoulder. Shuddering, Winry squeezed her eyes shut. It took a few seconds before she heard Edward repeating her name. She startled at finding him leaning over her, his nose barely a hand’s breadth away. 

Edward gripped her shoulders tight. “Are you okay?”

Her voice small, Winry said, “I remember. And I don’t want to.” 

Inhaling deeply, Edward sat down next to her. “Yeah. It’s not good, Winry. They say we’re the only survivors.”

“What?” Winry tried to remember who might’ve been on the car with them. There was a young couple, the woman dressed in wool. She recalled wondering how uncomfortable the woman might be. Had they gotten off before Border City? Right now, she couldn’t trust her memory. 

“Don’t cry!” Edward brushed her cheek again, his touch turning clumsy. 

“I’m not,” Winry protested. She didn’t think she was, but her eyes stung and her vision blurred. Maybe she was crying. 

“Winry!” Joy brightened the room as Alphonse rushed to the bed, tossing something into Edward’s lap as he shoved his brother out of the way. “I’m so glad you’re awake!” Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Mwaah!” 

“Al!” Edward swatted Alphonse on the shoulder. “Leave her alone! She’s in pain.” 

“Did you let Dr. Hoffman know she’s awake?” Alphonse straightened enough Winry could see Edward’s face, too, and his scowl at the question. “You didn’t,” he scolded.

“So, you go tell him!” 

Giving his brother an arch look, Alphonse asked, “Why? So you can have more time alone with Winry?” 

“Al!” Winry protested, despite the recurring anvil chorus in her skull. 

Edward’s frown deepened at the question. “Don’t make me kick your ass.” 

“Ed!” This, at least, was familiar. Too familiar. 

Alphonse grinned at his brother’s threat. “Like you could when you were well.” Still, he patted Winry’s hand. “I’ll get Dr. Hoffman, since Ed’s not going to leave you alone.” Winking at her, he stood up, and sauntered off out of Winry’s immediate sight. 

Edward curled his lips back, so Alphonse must’ve done something she hadn’t seen. “Asshole,” he muttered. 

Winry batted his thigh with her knuckles, distracting him from his irritation. “Don’t let him yank your chain.”

“Too late.” Edward unwrapped his sandwich, took a huge bite of it, and chewed savagely. His cud muffled his words, but he still managed to say, “Al’ll prolly tell Julia, too.” 

“Julia?” For a second, maybe two, Winry didn’t recognize the name. The memory came back of a sudden. “We made it to Table City?”

Edward wagged his hand from side to side as he swallowed. “Kind of. We’re underneath Table City. Remember from before? We’re in one of the old mines.” From the glee in his voice, Winry thought she was supposed to be impressed. “It’s hard living above ground now, Julia said. Creta’s trying to take Milos back, and bombing it regularly.” 

“Mines?” Winry vaguely remember Colonel Mustang trying to teach Miss Riza and her about Milos’s history before they boarded the train. She was pretty sure that, when Creta conquered Milos, they’d forced the Milosians to mine under Table City, in search of the stones they called Sanguine Stars. She mentally shook off the lessons. “Wouldn’t it be safer above ground?” Mr. Yoki had talked about cave-ins while they were traveling through the mining caverns in the Briggs Mountains. Winry thought she remembered him saying explosions could set off cave-ins throughout the system, with the force of the blast following the fault lines or the mined tunnels.

Hesitating before taking another bite of his sandwich, Edward raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “According to Julia, she figured a way to dampen the percussive effects from the bombs.” His eyebrows twitched, and Winry knew he’d have to find out more about how this worked. A gooey, warm feeling settled in her stomach at the thoughtful expression Edward wore. He turned his gaze back on her, and she felt her cheeks heat up. “Are you really okay?” 

“Yeah, I mean, my head hurts.” Raising her hand, Winry found a bandage on her temple and explored it with her fingers. It wrapped around her head. Did she lose any hair? Would Edward tell her? “Ed,” she said, tentatively. 

“You have a concussion, and some broken ribs.” He took a smaller bite of his sandwich, chewing. “Hoffman – the doctor – was starting to get worried about you, not waking up.” Fixing her with a stern glare, Edward swallowed his food. 

Winry pouted. “I’m awake now!” 

“Yeah, and he’ll want to look you over.” Edward made it sound like Dr. Hoffman might do surgery without anesthesia, his lip curling. 

“I’d hope so!” Chafing her chilly hands, Winry wanted another blanket. Why wasn’t Edward cold? She studied him, realizing his shirt had sleeves. 

“Yeah, and you’d better be ready to get up after that.” 

“Why?” 

Edward finished his sandwich in a couple of bites and went on talking after gulping the food down. “There’s something I wanna see.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “The way we got here. I mean, I was out of it when they found us, and Al said he only caught a glimpse. Julia wanted to wait ‘til we were all awake to take us to the aerie.” 

Winry thought Edward might explode from his excitement. “Show us what?” What was so amazing about how they’d gotten to Table City? Or to under Table City?

Leaning nearer to her, Edward grinned. Winry’s heart started beating faster at how close he was. Even in this dim light, she could see a faint glitter on his chin. Edward, with facial hair? She was so entranced, she barely heard him gloating, “We came by dragon.” 

Three or four seconds passed before Winry realized what he said. “We what?” she yelped. 

Edward folded his arms, the familiar, sneaky, evil smile back on his face. “Dragons, Winry. Table City has dragons. And they rescued us from the train car.” 

X X X

The window was rare, a formation of the volcanic rock which had been transmuted to clear glass. Julia knew she shouldn’t sit in front of it, or even have created it in the first place, but she missed sunlight, and being able to see something other than rock walls and corridors. She thought that might be part of why she loved flying so much. The sensation of being on the back of a dragon was even better than using the bat wings to fly. Dragon wings were so much stronger than the manufactured gliders, could take a person higher, farther. And the dragons themselves – they were so amazing. Marina made her feel like she could do anything. The fact that Marina was her partner, that Marina _let_ herself be saddled, let Julia climb on her back, took her wherever she wanted to go, there was no more amazing feeling. Even alchemy took second to the way Julia felt when she hooked her harness onto Marina’s saddle. Touching the cool glass with her fingertips, Julia felt a pang at being cooped up in this room now. 

“Lady Julia, are you sure bringing the Amestrians here was the best idea?”

Turning away from the glass, Julia took a deep breath before she faced her councilors. She didn’t smile, offering them a grave expression. “Amestris is not our enemy, Creta is. I think the three of them would have died if we hadn’t helped. And it’s not their fault Creta decided to attack the train line when they did.” 

Councilor Santiago frowned at her, folding his arms and tucking his hands inside the cowls of his sleeves. “You didn’t answer the question, Lady Julia.”

“No,” she said slowly. “Because I don’t think it’s a very good question to ask. Maybe you don’t remember, Councilor Santiago, but the Elric brothers helped save all of the citizens of Milos when the man pretending to be my brother attempted forbidden alchemy.” Mentally, she flinched, but she couldn’t allow that to show. The people who’d died in Atlas’s attempt – she missed them, every day. “None of us would be here today if the Elrics hadn’t helped us.” Julia linked her hands behind her back as she strolled along the arched wall of the chamber. Despite the sunlight hitting the stone farther up, this outside wall only caught a little bit of sun each day, not enough to warm it, except when the sun touched the glass for a few brief minutes, a half hour at the most. Giving her councilors a steady look, Julia added, “We should give them all the welcome we can, and be happy we are able to help and take care of them.” 

Santiago’s mouth turned down briefly, but he said, “As you wish, of course, Lady Julia.” The other two councilors, Ivey and Timbrell, nodded their agreement. “I only want to make sure we know what we’re doing.” 

“Offering aid to a pair of heroes,” Julia said, keeping her voice gentle, “and their friend.”

**Thessalia, Creta  
Approximately sixty kilometers west of Milos**

Colonel Eirene Zoglakis marched down the line of naval crews, each member saluting as she passed. A heady experience, or it would be, if she had more than sixteen crews of four men apiece. She knew why she didn’t have more crews, or at least, why she was being told she couldn’t – the battlefront at Pendleton needed men, and a nav crew had to be highly-trained for their specialized work. It took time for each swab to learn his or her job on an airship, as opposed to what was needed at Pendleton – namely, bodies to point weapons at Amestris. The fact that Milos had _dragons_ didn’t seem of any import to anyone but her and her crews. What Generalissimo Zirimis couldn’t seem to understand was just how effective the monsters were against her airships. Eirene had already lost five ships to the beasts, and twenty-two crewmen. It seemed like an incredible waste to her, but Zirimis thought otherwise. He wanted Milos as a staging area for another, alternate attack on Amestris’s front.

When she’d received the orders to attack the land bridge leading from Milos to Amestris, Eirene felt liked she’d finally been recognized for her leadership capabilities. Instead, she’d lost another ship, and another crew, but her men managed to destroy the railway line before the Milosian dragons took them down. She’d documented the loss to Zirimis, with the additional information that she had plans to follow up with an additional attack to completely destroy the land bridge, making it irreparable. And today, she’d be able to witness the attack, and the weapons of war allowing her to conquer Milos, and move on to Amestris. 

Turning smartly and facing her men, Eirene saluted them all. “Gentlemen,” she shouted to be heard over the clanks of the ground crews working on the ships, and the hissings of the hoses delivering hydrogen to fill each airship’s envelope. “I know you have been fighting long and hard. I think today’s flight has the ability to offer us a victory, rather than an impasse.” She swept a hand at her chief engineer, a man with a bristling red mustache and the crested haircut that neatly labeled him as being originally from one of the nomadic river tribes. “Mr. Lamonan, if you please?” 

“Yes, sir!” Lamonan bellowed, and gestured to the long, bi-winged airships he’d designed. Five of them perched on a runway, eyes and mouths painted on their noses, fierce faces Lamonan insisted belonged on the bi-wings. He’d said the bi-wings had their own spirits, and to fight dragons, they needed to be as ferocious as the beasts themselves. Eirene didn’t have it in her to argue with him. “You all know we’ve been testing these bi-wings out. They’re near as maneuverable as those beasts of Milos.” He patted one of the bi-wing’s noses affectionately with a broad, grease-grimed hand. “It doesn’t have a bladder for a dragon to rip to shreds, and it only needs one man to make it fly. It can dive and lift and spin.” 

“And crash,” one of the navvies muttered, just loud enough to cause a ripple of laughter down the line. Eirene raised her brows, tapping her palm against her thigh, and the laughter died abruptly. 

Lamonan faced the navvies, rubbing his mustache with his thumb. “You’re right,” he agreed, “a bi-wing could crash.” Taking a challenging step closer to the navvies, he went on. “But it also could pull up out of a crash, and get back up there to fight the dragons and keep ‘em off of you.” He stabbed a finger at one of the navvies, making the young man hop backward out of line. Flushing, he hurried to join up with the others again, ignoring the catcalls. Lamonan smirked, but didn’t make any additional comment on the navvy’s interruption. 

Eirene raised her voice again, taking up where Lamonan left off. “Today is our first day out with the bi-wings and the airships together. We are not engaging with the enemy. We will learn to work together.” She gave her navvies a baleful eye. “Do you understand me?” 

“Sir, yes sir!” they shouted back. 

“Then, just so we’re all perfectly clear, are we fighting each other?”

“No, sir!”

“Who are we fighting?”

“The Milosians, sir!” 

“And we’re all going to be learning from this experience today, so we can use it the next time we’re in the battlefield. Am I right?” 

“Yes, sir!”

She cupped her hand to her ear. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir!” her navvies and the bi-wing pilots shouted back. 

Eirene allowed them a smile. “That’s what I want to hear. Mount up, and remember, we’re fighting for Creta!” 

“For Creta!” they shouted as they scrambled to their airships or to the bi-wings. Eirene followed them, watching as the navvies climbed into the baskets of their ships, checking gauges and tightening rigging. They inspected each other’s harnesses, designed to help keep them in the basket, making sure the latches and buckles were properly fastened. 

Turning back to the bi-wings, Eirene watched as each pilot performed his or her own safety check on each machine. Pride swelled her heart at how quick and efficient her crews were. Some day, she might even tell them those very words. For now, she shouted, “You’re falling behind! Milos or Amestris could be destroying your air pads. You need to move faster!” 

“Yes, sir!” they shouted back at her, and picked up their pace. Later, she’d review with Lamonan and his engineers as to how well the navvies and pilots did, getting ready for this training mission. So far, Milos wasn’t attacking the Creta airspace, but Eirene knew it was only a matter of time before they did; or before Amestris decided to ignore Milos and take action on its own. Mentally, Eirene rubbed her palms together at the idea. It would be a glorious fight, but she didn’t have time to consider it at the moment. Right now, her concentration needed to be on making sure her crews all got aloft at the same time, without any incidents between airships and bi-wings. And, once she was in the observation loft, she needed to watch the interactions between both types of ships, so she would be able to direct their actions in battle later. 

As the first of the bi-wings took off, Eirene wrapped her scarf more tightly around her throat. She stalked across the hanger floor, heading for the ladder that led to the observation deck. Her heart pounded from the joy at seeing those ships leaving the hanger, the way they floated off into the air. This invention of Lamonan’s would be the turning point, she knew it.

  


Art by Dzioo [DeviantArt](http://dzioo.deviantart.com/)  



	5. Wind of the Morning

**Table City, Milos**

Edward puffed out his cheeks, slouching along through the corridor of rock. He probably ought to be amazed at wandering though the mining corridors, and what they represented, but he had other things on his mind, namely, Dr. Hoffman. The asshole kept chasing him out of Winry’s recovery room. It almost seemed like the man thought he was going to attack Winry while she slept.

Edward snorted forcefully enough the sound echoed off the rock walls. Like he’d actually do something like that. Winry was – his brain sort of short-circuited at the memory crowding out other thoughts. She’d been sleeping, dreaming, Edward guessed now, and she’d let out this _sound_ that went right down his spine. Her face and throat had flushed, and he’d thought maybe she was developing a fever from her concussion or something. Winry’s eyes had flickered, and he wasn’t sure if she’d seen him or not, but she said his name. 

Hoffman must’ve heard _how_ she said it, because the next thing Edward knew, he was getting tossed out of Winry’s room. And every time he tried to go back in, Hoffman stared at him like he expected Edward to try something weird, then sent him from the room again.

Gnashing his teeth, Edward wished he could’ve just kicked Hoffman out of Winry’s room, but it wasn’t like he had any medical training. Sure, he could pat her hand, or wipe her forehead, but if there was a problem, he’d have to shout for help. He wasn’t a pervert, but how the hell did he prove it? And while Hoffman was kicking him out of the room, Winry’d said his name again, and he’d nearly jerked free, but Hoffman took one look at Winry, and wouldn’t let Edward go back to her bed. It wasn’t his fault Winry’s nipples got hard when she said his name! 

Edward whistled a long, low note, trying to distract his body from the whole image of Winry stretched out on her cot, purring his name. Stupid involuntary body reactions. Stupid doctor, for noticing. So now he walked around in the corridors, trying to find something to do. 

Julia had sent him to see old man Gonzales, the mechanic who’d built her leg and had given Winry the pieces to fix his arm the first time they’d been in Milos. It’d been hard to explain why he had a flesh arm now, but Gon wanted to take a look at his arm, even when Edward protested it was fine. After the explanation – as short as Edward could make it – Gon bent the flange of Edward’s knee so he’d be able to walk again, and made him promise to bring Winry to talk to him as soon as she was able. Besides, she’d still need to do more work on his leg. At least Edward didn’t creak and hobble around on a stiff leg any more. 

He’d checked with Julia, and there wasn’t any way to let Pinako know they were all okay, not yet. The bombs destroyed the radio towers, as well as the telephone and telegraph lines when the rail line was taken out. He wished he could write something to the people who’d lost family in the wreck, but what would he have said? ‘Sorry’ wasn’t enough; but there wasn’t really anything more he knew to say. Uncomfortable with his line of thinking, Edward headed toward a gleam of light. Maybe he could catch sight of some sort of sky, or ground, or anything other than reddish-tan rock. Scowling, Edward wished there were rocks on the floor, so he could kick them. The rattle of stone on stone might help his mood. 

A glimpse of white ahead of him relieved the rocky walls. He snickered – it really was a light at the end of the tunnel. It pulled him along, called him to it. As he walked, Edward noticed a change in the smell. The air in the tunnels was mostly static, except around the blowholes or exterior tubes. This corridor had the remembered stink of Death Canyon, but, overlaying that rancid stench, Edward caught something else. It smelled vaguely like carrion, and a little like dust or something arid, giving him a nudged reminder of the Eastern Desert. There was also a sharp, tangy scent, like a strong, dry spice that Edward couldn’t quite place. Somehow, it reminded him of Ling’s clothes, and the way they’d smelled when Alphonse had first dragged the stupid prince out of an alleyway in Rush Valley. The closer Edward got to the light, the stronger the smell, and finally, he could see what had lured him here.

Despite Julia telling him, and Alphonse’s half-delirious, faulty memory, Edward hadn’t quite believed in the dragons. Even though he’d told Winry she needed to get up so she could see them, he’d thought they must be some ungainly chimeras, like the ones Tucker had transmuted. Now, he realized how wrong he’d been.

The cavern seemed enormous, with a large opening off to Edward’s right. A ledge swept out from that opening, and he thought it must provide a launching pad for the animals he could see. The cave itself seemed enormous, big enough to house at least fifty dragons, in stalls that could have easily held two draft horses. People moved along the rounded cavern with a purpose, carrying buckets full of what looked to be raw meat, or pushing wheelbarrows of dragon fewmets. Dragons occupied some of the stalls, but three were outside of them. Four people bathed one dragon, while another allowed a couple of grooms to work on its claws. The third dragon seemed to be in the process of having a harness fitted to it, and kept tossing its head and flicking its tail, reminding Edward of a restive horse. Other dragons, in their stalls, were being fed, or groomed, or watered. All of them responded with deep clacking sounds, or grumbles, or roars. The cacophony almost made him cover his ears, but sheer wonder made him listen. 

It didn’t seem right such creatures existed outside of an alchemy text. A lick of jealousy ran straight through Edward. He hadn’t grown up knowing these creatures personally. How different would his life be, if he’d had a pet dragon? He shook off the fancy for what it was; his life was pretty good, now, with Alphonse having his body back, and Winry, well. His thoughts shied away from Winry for the moment. He knew he’d need to actually do something about how he felt for Winry, but not while she was laid up in a hospital room. 

Besides, right now, in front of him, he had real, live dragons. Standing where he was, Edward could get a good look at the three dragons outside of their stalls. They all had a similar build, with wedge-shaped heads like a goat’s, but their jaw lines extended farther back along the skull, indicating a massive maw. Wide eyes, set into the front of the skull, proved the dragons’ status as predators, and ears, reminding Edward of horse ears with their shape, crowned their skulls in front of a frill. Whiskers adorned the muzzles, like a catfish’s. The dragons had long, arched necks sweeping down to broad and deep chests, and their forelegs seemed almost too delicate to hold the weight of their bodies. The legs ended in clawed feet that seemed to be at least rudimentarily prehensile. Wings, attached approximately at the withers, folded into the dragons’ sides while at rest. The haunches carried both a lot of muscle and bone weight, and the hind legs were decidedly thicker than the forelegs. The tail snaked off behind, twitching and flipping, with a sort of a rudder-like appendage at the very end. 

The colors of the dragons ranged from the palest spring green to a rich emerald. The hues faded around the mouth, under the chin, neck, and underside, but were darkest around the head, neck and withers. Edward thought the wings might be dark, too, the way they shrouded the beasts’ bodies, but it might be different when they were extended. Even thin paper looked dark when it was folded up tight. 

“Can I help you?” 

The bossy tone sounded like Winry, but still, Edward startled, turning around to see a young woman with reddish hair and a curious frown on her face. “Uh, I was just,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “looking.” 

“You’re not a Milosian, with an accent like that.” Her eyebrows went up into her curly bangs as she planted one fist on her hip. “You’re not an Amestrian spy, are you?”

Gaping at her, Edward couldn’t think of an answer. “I – I – I’m no spy!” he finally roared. 

“Yeah,” she said, wincing and rubbing her ear, “no real spy would shout that way. So, you’re Amestrian, but you’re one of Julia’s friends, aren’t you? Al or Ed?” 

“Ed,” he grumbled, nowhere near mollified. He should’ve been over this kind of reaction. And it wasn’t that long ago, Amestris had control of Milos. The Milosians had a right to be concerned about some stray Amestrians showing up in their city-state. Rallying himself to be at least polite, he stuck out his hand. “Edward Elric. Not an Amestrian spy.” 

Grinning, she took his hand, giving it a hearty shake. “Andrea Tirado. Welcome to the aerie.” 

“Thanks.” Edward smiled in return. “So, uh, can you tell me anything about them?” He jerked his chin toward the dragons. 

Andrea hesitated for a few seconds, giving him a long look. “Well, I guess, since you’re Julia’s friend, I can tell you.” She gestured for Edward to walk with her as she headed into the cavern. “What do you want to know?”

“Well…everything, I guess. I mean, how are there real dragons? Where did they come from, and why aren’t they everywhere?” Edward sidestepped a groom with a wheelbarrow full of reeking dung. The smell reminded him of dog poop, but worse. 

Andrea’s grin widened. “They’re not everywhere because they’re ours.” 

Stopping outside of the stall, Edward watched as Andrea chirruped at the yellow-green dragon inside. They had to be chimeras, right? He suspected as much, but it would be good to confirm his theory. 

A rope stretched across the front of the stall, a token barrier, leaving Edward to wonder if the dragons were that intelligent, or that stupid. Andrea raised the rope to duck underneath. She pulled a crust of bread from her pocket. Offering it to the dragon, she smiled as it snuffled her palm, whiskers brushing her wrist, then licked up the crust from her hand. “Ed, you can come in. Helios is pretty calm,” she called over her shoulder. 

Even lying down, Helios seemed massive. At least as big as the heavy-set beeves Edward had seen in his travels, though the dragon was built on a lighter scale. Lifting the rope, he entered the stall, the sharp odor of fewmets making his nose wrinkle. It stank worse than a privy on a hot day. 

“The dragons are omnivorous. They like meat best, though,” Andrea said as an explanation for Edward’s watering eyes. “It’s hard to get used to, I guess, for someone not from Table City.” 

Translating that to mean ‘someone who hadn’t had to scavenge through Creta’s crap’, Edward nodded. Helios turned his head to regard Edward, thrusting his muzzle within a hand’s breadth of his chest. Hot breath, spiced with the smell of meat, warmed his skin through his borrowed clothes. The dragon’s whiskers twitched and swayed, and Edward slowly brought up his hand to cup the dragon’s chin. He dug his blunt fingernails into Helios’s skin and earned a low rumble. Helios’s eyes slotted in appreciation and his ears flopped to either side of his head. 

“He likes that!” Andrea beamed, leaning against the dragon’s shoulder to rub his neck. “I’d almost think you’d been around dragons before.” 

“No, just big dogs, and horses once in a while.” This close, it was difficult not to study the dragon for traits of whatever animals had gone in to making it. How could they breed true? Were they breeding? “So, tell me. Are they chimeras?”

Andrea cocked her head. “I don’t know what that means.” 

Edward changed his question to, “How did you get these dragons?” He kept rubbing Helios’s chin, thinking at least in some ways, dragons acted like cats or dogs, wanting to be scratched. The resemblance to a horse still seemed most likely; maybe a horse crossed with a giant lizard and a bat, to get those wings. But the fluidity of the body merges amazed him. He hated thinking it, but only one of the beings in Tucker’s lab didn’t seem deformed, the fusion between Nina and Alexander. He swallowed, studying Helios until his eyes stopped stinging. The truest chimeras had been created with a Philosopher’s Stone. How these creatures came about made him itch to study the notes on their creation. 

“Originally, from Xing.” 

Straightening abruptly, Edward realized and closed his mouth with a click. “Xing?” 

“Mm. Milos and Xing traded extensively before Amestris and Creta began fighting over our land. Our dragons nearly went extinct, but we managed to save them.” Pride graced her smile. 

That stupid prince had been telling the truth? That there were dragons in Xing? Edward gritted his teeth together, thinking how he’d scoffed at Ling when he’d mentioned them. It had been one of the few times Greed let him out, or Ling took advantage of Greed, Edward never was sure how they managed what they did. But Ling had mentioned Envy kind of resembled the dragons back home. Edward remembered he’d rolled his eyes, but Ling had insisted dragons existed, and they were still arguing the point when Greed decided to take over their body again. “Guess I’ll have to apologize,” Edward muttered to Helios. Turning his attention back to Andrea, he asked, “How many dragons do you have?”

“Oh,” Andrea gestured with the hand not patting Helios’s neck, “sixteen males, and thirteen females.” Her eyes drifted to her left. “When Xing originally traded them to us, we had eight, five females and three males, and we built up enough to fill this stable.” Pride flashed for a second before vanishing. “But when Amestris and Creta started fighting over Milos, we lost a lot of the dragons. We were down to five, and one drake was really old, and the other only had one testicle. But they bred the dragas, and each of the dragas had two – they always do – so then we had eight. The dragas won’t breed again for three years, because they’re raising the fledges, unless something happens to the fledges, that is.” Her enthusiasm for her subject grew as she spoke. “But we can take the fledges away at two years, and start training them, and the dragas might breed a few months after the weaning. Not always, but.” Andrea shrugged. 

Edward digested this information, and another thought came to mind. “How do you feed them?” Milos depended on Amestris for trade for food. The soil in the canyon was polluted, what with the junk Creta rained down into it, so Edward couldn’t imagine the Milosians trying to garden there. He vaguely remembered Julia, or maybe Alphonse, talking about hydroponic gardens somewhere in the mountain, but that wouldn’t be enough to feed a dragon, would it? 

“They’ll eat practically anything,” Andrea admitted. “We have to make sure the tack is properly stored, or it could be dragon-snacks. That rope?” She nodded toward the stall barricade. “Every few days, we coat it in peppermint oil. The dragons don’t like it, so they won’t eat it.”

“But to answer your question, we generally take the dragons out to hunt.” The man’s voice came from outside the stall. Andrea’s face lit up at the sound of it, and Edward turned, seeing a brown-haired man, around Mustang’s age, he guessed. One half of his face was scarred, and the scarring continued up into his hairline, turning the strands white. He was still a handsome man, almost as tall as Havoc, with a wiry build. “Alion and I are taking Petras out. It’s almost time for Helios to be fed, too, isn’t it? Do you want to go with us?” 

Andrea’s smile grew brighter and she nearly danced in place. “Yes, Daniel! Thank you!” Regaining control, she gestured across her dragon’s back. “This is Ed Elric, Julia’s friend from Amestris. Ed, this is Daniel Spaso. Daniel, can Ed come with us?”

Spaso studied Edward across the rope barricade. Edward instinctively reacted to the challenge in the older man’s eyes, stiffening his spine and squaring his shoulders. “Thank you for rescuing my brother, our friend and me.” Barely hesitating, he asked, “Is it true we’re the only ones you found left alive at the train wreck?”

The question made Spaso’s chin come up. “You don’t believe what you’ve been told?” 

Edward smiled, not quite politely. “Just asking.” 

“Stop it,” Andrea ordered, sounding even more like Winry. “Ed’s a good guy, Daniel! He helped Julia back when she escaped from that prison.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but Edward wasn’t about to say otherwise at the moment. 

Spaso seemed to consider the information, absently rubbing his scarred cheek. Finally, he said, “If you vouch for him, Andrea, he can come along.” 

The squeal of delight cut through his ear drums, making Edward wince. “Thanks,” he said, more to Andrea than Spaso. “What can I do to help get ready?” 

X X X 

“A dance?” Alphonse cocked his head at her, considering the idea. “Really?”

“Mm. It’s tradition,” Julia told him. Together they walked through the mining corridors under Milos. “Even though we’re not doing that great now, the dance is supposed to help bring prosperity to Milos.” She quirked her mouth in a lopsided smile. “I don’t know exactly how a dance is supposed to make us wealthy, but I guess it helps to make everyone excited and happy, and give hope we’ll be able to live above-ground again, soon.” Shrugging, Julia spread her hands. As an alchemist, she understood a little bit about how moods affected more than just one person – get enough disgruntled people together, and they could practically destroy a workplace from the inside out. Still, a dance – and the accompanying feast - sounded extravagant, especially considering how hard everyone worked to get food or any other supplies into Milos. The neutral zone with Amestris encouraged some trading, but Milos had little to offer Amestris in return, not to mention, Amestrian rule hadn’t been that long ago. Most Milosians didn’t trust Amestris to not try to conquer Milos again. 

For obvious reasons, there was no trading with Creta, though Creta continued to dump its trash into the canyons surrounding Table City. And now, with the train lines down, it’d be even harder to get food into Milos. Of course, they’d been planning this before Creta’s attack, and had some extra food stored. With Edward and Alphonse here, surely they’d be interested in helping rebuild the land bridge. It would be easier to do with alchemy than anything, she thought, and decided she should speak to the brothers about it. And their assistance would help show her people that not all Amestrians were bad. 

“Far be it from me to argue with tradition,” Alphonse said, reminding her one of the brothers was with her now. “But why are you telling me?” 

Julia couldn’t look at him, concentrating on the floor under their feet instead. “Well, I was hoping you’d accompany me.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing. 

“I’d be happy to go with you!” Alphonse’s grin widened. “Thank you for asking me.” 

His pleased smile made something inside of Julia turn into goo. She wished she could tell him that, but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth when he looked at her that way. She glanced up at him, and had to look away from his shining eyes. At least the corridors weren’t brightly lit. Milos didn’t have enough fuel to keep them brilliant. Her flushed cheeks might be hidden by the dim lighting. 

“So, when is it?” 

Alphonse’s question caught her off guard for a second, and Julia scrambled mentally to get back on subject. “On the first full moon of the season. The feast starts when the sun sets. Someone will be up in the tower,” she gestured overhead, meaning the city overhead, “and when the sun actually goes down over the horizon, a series of bells will ring. That’s when the food comes out of the kitchens, and everyone eats and drinks to have the energy to dance the whole night. Someone always has to be on the dance floor to make sure we stamp out the things holding us down and keeping us from our goals.” With a roll of her eyes, she indicated her belief in the superstition. 

“It sounds like fun.” Alphonse touched her shoulder lightly. “And really, Julia, I am honored. I know we’ll have a good time.” 

“You don’t think it’s silly?” Julia still thought it was. 

“If it brings hope to your people, how silly can it be?” 

“You have a point.” She had to agree, thinking back to the little girls, and how excited they were to be able to dance this year. Their smiles made people around them brighten. The dance may have had its roots in something else; prosperity and fecundity usually went hand in hand, and a full-moon, all-night celebration during the spring of the year? It had the feeling of something older and steeped in traditions Julia really didn’t want to think about, particularly with Alphonse walking next to her. He really seemed different, without the armor; not what she’d expected, really. She’d thought he’d look more like Edward, but only their coloring was similar. Alphonse’s face was more open, and had a different shape. Edward’s smiles rarely reached his eyes; Alphonse smiled with his whole body. Mentally scolding herself, Julia knew there were more important things to think about than a cute young man. Her councilors still thought their Amestrian visitors could be spies – part of the reason she decided to invite Alphonse as her partner for the dance, or, at least the one she liked to tell herself. 

“I guess Ed can ask Winry, or are girls supposed to ask the guys?” Julia glanced up at Alphonse in time to see him frown at his own question. “That might not be such a bad idea, really. Ed might be too embarrassed to ask her. Especially since Dr. Hoffman kicked him out of there.” He nodded toward the curtain blocking off Winry’s recovery room. 

Julia held up her hand to stop Alphonse, shaking her head. “Wait, he didn’t tell me Dr. Hoffman kicked him out of Winry’s room. What happened?”

He shrugged and grinned. “Ed didn’t say, he just fussed about it.” 

There was no way to go back and make changes to what happened in the past, particularly when she didn’t know anything about it. Instead, she’d go forward with what she could. “Are you sure Ed wouldn’t ask Winry to the dance? He’s spent almost all of his time there, since she woke up.” She gestured toward the curtained doorway. 

“Yeah, but that’s just sitting by her bed while she’s sleeping, and arguing with her when she’s awake. If he has to ask her to a dance, he’ll stammer and stutter and swear. Whatever happened with Dr. Hoffman, I’d bet him asking Winry to a dance will just make it worse.” Alphonse’s frown turned into a wicked grin, one that would’ve made Edward proud.

“You can’t tease him like that,” Julia said, hiding her delight behind fake horror. 

“He’s my brother, I’m supposed to tease him,” Alphonse told her as he opened the curtain to Winry’s room. “Winry! Are you ready?” 

Julia stepped inside the room carved out into the stone hill. The rough, reddish-brown walls seemed slick, almost oily, to look at. A hand-made table separated a pair of wooden bed frames. Only one of the beds was occupied, with a young blond woman dangling her legs over the side. Dr. Hoffman finished scribbling some notes in a file, barely glancing up as Alphonse followed Julia into the room. Winry smiled at them. “Hi!”

“Are you feeling better?” Julia stopped at the foot of the bed, leaning her hands on the footboard. 

“Good enough to get out of here.” She canted her eyes at Dr. Hoffman hopefully. 

“Yes, you’re fine to go,” he said, still concentrating on his notes. 

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Alphonse said. Sitting down next to Winry, he wrapped his arm around her back. “You are okay, right?”

Huffing hard enough to almost hide her wince at Alphonse’s touch, Winry said, “For the last time, yes, I’m fine!” 

“Okay, good.” He grinned at her. “Because Julia’s holding a dance for us, and she asked me to take her. So you have to ask Ed.” 

“I what?” Winry’s jaw flopped before she got it under control. “Al!” 

“Blame Julia,” he said, with the most innocent expression ever on his face. Julia almost believed him, and she knew better. 

“Julia?” Narrowed blue eyes turned her way. 

Raising her palms in defense, Julia managed to say, “Or he can ask you! There’s a feast first, and dancing later. And it isn’t for you. It’s a tradition!” She went on, “The dances aren’t very hard; some circle dances, and a couple of lead dances.” 

Alphonse said gleefully, “So Brother can’t complain about not being able to dance.” 

“How am I supposed to dance, Al? I’ve got three fractured ribs.” Winry gently pushed his arm away. 

His gloating expression faded. Alphonse clasped his hands together and tightened his mouth. “I wish I knew enough about alkahestry to heal you.” 

“It’s all right.” Winry patted his forearm. “We’re together, and we’re in pretty good shape, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we are. And Julia’s hosting a dance you can’t dance at, but you can eat, right? And we’ll both be horrified at how much Ed eats!” Alphonse’s smile came back, and he shared it with Julia. She grinned in return. “So,” he said, glancing around, “Where is Ed, anyway?” 

Dr. Hoffman looked up from his notes then, his brow knitting. “I banned him a while back, so Miss Rockbell could heal without interruption.” He tapped his pen against the paper, glancing down at Winry’s head. “Your brother is very controlling.” 

Folding his arms as he straightened up, Alphonse said, “He gets that way for the people he cares about.” 

Julia wondered if he deliberately stared at Dr. Hoffman, rather than at Winry, whose face slowly turned red. “Alphonse!” she yelped, wincing as she elbowed him hard. 

Alphonse grunted, but scolded her in return. “Winry! You know it’s true.” 

“Shut up.” Sulking, she folded her hands together. 

“As I was saying,” Dr. Hoffman sniffed, as if he found their discussion rude, “Miss Rockbell is cleared to leave my care, and you are even cleared to attend the feast, but I’d suggest you still don’t do anything too strenuous.” Pointing the end of his pen at her, he added, “If you would take my advice, you’d find another young man to attend the dance with. Mr. Elric is not a restful person.” 

Winry shrugged, one side of her mouth turning up. “He never has been, sir. I’m used to it.” 

“I’m always sorry to hear that,” Dr. Hoffman said, mostly to himself, then went on, in a louder voice. “Well, young lady, you’re free to go. If you have any complications, please come and see me, but as long as you’re careful, and keep your ribs wrapped, you shouldn’t have any problems.” He nodded to Julia and Alphonse. “I’m sure we will see each other again.” With that, he folded his file closed, carrying it with him as he swept Winry’s curtain aside and left the room. 

“Thank you, Dr. Hoffman,” Winry called after him as she carefully pushed to her feet, using Alphonse’s shoulder as a brace to keep her balance. He put his hand in the small of her back to steady her. Julia had no doubt he’d grab Winry if she started to fall. She thought her own heart might beat out of her chest at how sweet the younger Elric brother could be. “Well.” Turning to Julia, Winry smiled brightly. “Thanks for taking us in, Julia!” 

Grinning back, she said, “Of course!” She took Winry’s hands in hers, feeling rough calluses against her palms. She wondered if Winry noticed her own calluses, with the way she worked with the dragons, and helping the scavengers pick through the garbage that Creta threw into the valley, and the other labor she did, to help her people. Cocking her head, Julia’s smile grew. “You look wonderful in Milosian clothes.” Though she didn’t wear the traditional headband, Winry did have on a woman’s belted tunic and long skirt. She wore her own boots, which would probably be more comfortable for her, anyway. 

“You’re really kind for letting us borrow them,” Winry said. 

“Oh, you’re welcome!” Julia tightened her grip on Winry’s hands. “I wish I could say I have a nice room for you, but I have to put you up in my quarters.”

“I don’t want to put you out.” Winry shook her head, slow and cautious.

“You aren’t!” Letting go of her hands, Julia began walking toward the door. “I had to put Ed and Al in a room on the next floor down.”

“I could make a tunnel with alchemy, shorten the distance some,” Alphonse offered, keeping pace with her. 

Julia narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare. There are enough little tunnels through Table City.” She thought of the secret ways the kids used, how they got around and popped up out of nowhere. She hadn’t had a chance to use them when she was a little girl, but she’d heard about them. 

“Never say that, Julia, it encourages them.” The corner of Winry’s mouth pulled to the side. “Hey, where is Ed, anyway?” 

Alphonse said, “I don’t know. After he and Dr. Hoffman had words yesterday, he’s been in a foul mood.” At Winry’s frown, Alphonse spread his hands. “He didn’t say why!” 

“Dr. Hoffman banned him, remember?” Winry fingered her chin. “And he did say I should go to the dance with someone else. I hope Ed didn’t do something stupid while I was asleep.” Julia glanced at Alphonse, who didn’t seem particularly worried, at least, not about his brother. He squeezed Winry’s shoulder. Julia wondered if Winry was more disappointed in Edward for not being there for her release from medical care, or more curious as to where he actually was. Winry went on, “He can’t have gotten too far. His leg was in terrible shape.” 

“Ah,” Julia shot Winry a look. Alphonse tucked his hands behind his back, whistling. Some help he was. “I sent him off to have his automail worked on, so he wouldn’t have to hobble around.” 

“Oh, Mr. Gonzales helped him? That’s good. I’m glad he can get around again!” Winry’s frown vanished almost before Julia recognized it. 

“Don’t be jealous!” Alphonse teased. 

“I’m not! Geeze!” Winry rolled her eyes. 

The way they talked to each made Julia smile. She missed conversations like this. Deep in her memories, she remembered her brother talking to her this way, when they were kids. 

Julia walked with Alphonse and Winry, guiding them to her quarters, because, despite everything, she’d noticed how Winry kept wincing with each step she took. She needed to rest, and heal up more, otherwise, she wouldn’t be in any shape to attend the festival, or do much of anything. 

Julia’s room was up two levels from the medical area, and she took her time walking there. Alphonse started muttering about carrying Winry when they’d reached the halfway point. She grumbled she was fine, she could walk, but Julia could see the strain on her face. So could Alphonse, and he reached for her, only stopping at Winry’s pointed finger. 

“If you pick me up, Al, you’d put pressure on my ribs, and it’d make me scream.” 

“Oh.” He kept his hands to himself afterward, though he hovered close to Winry, maybe too close, from the looks she shot his way.

“Here’s my – our room.” Julia unlocked and opened the door – an actual door, not a curtain. She insisted that all living quarters had doors that could be locked closed. Hers was no exception. “Come in!” She hoped it’d be all right for Winry. Julia didn’t feel ashamed of her room. The furnishings might be sparse, but they shone in the dim light. A few decorations highlighted the room; the silver earring holder her brother transmuted for her, a colorful ceramic pot young Karina found while searching through the debris. A drawing of a sunrise over Table City, done by her mother and given to a friend, and presented to Julia once she returned. 

She’d transmuted shelves into the walls to hold scrolls and books, as well as a small desk. A narrow window let in some light. Later in the day, as the sun set, Julia would light oil lamps. A curtained alcove led to a small garderobe, with running water. She’d show Winry the public baths. Her bed was big enough for two – or three, even; though the only people who’d slept in the bed with her were Andrea and some of the little girls. Sharing it with Winry wouldn’t be a hardship. “Make yourself at home.” She nodded toward some baskets. “I picked up some clothes for you, and put them in those.”

“Thank you.” Weariness showed on Winry’s face. 

And she’d been prattling on. Trying to hide how flustered she felt, Julia said, “My room is your room, too. Make yourself comfortable!” 

Winry blew softly out her nose, smiling a little bit. “I would like to sit down.” She sat at the table, a faint wince marring her brow.

“I could make us some tea,” Julia said, including Alphonse in her offer. 

Nodding, Alphonse said, “That’d be nice.” 

A little while later, they’d settled in around the table, some mint tea steeping in the pot. Julia hoped it’d provide a pick-me-up for Winry. The pain from her ribs had to be awful, but she still smiled. Alphonse noticed it, too, and, when he finished his cup, he said, “I’m going to find Ed. He ought to have been by to check on you by now, Winry.” A note of irritation flickered in his voice. 

“He’s probably reading something somewhere and lost track of time.” She sounded reedy. 

Julia touched her hand, finding it cool. “You need to rest, Winry. Go lie down until Al finds Ed.” The fact Winry didn’t argue said just how tired she had to be. 

Alphonse helped Winry to the bed, and she didn’t protest this time. Once he’d gotten her settled, he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, Winry, I’ll bring him back.” With a quick wink at Julia, he left the room. 

Julia glanced over at Winry, realizing she’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Smiling to herself, she began to clean up the teapot and cups, hoping Alphonse came back soon with Edward, and wondering just where the eldest Elric had gone.


	6. Outlined Against a Brilliant Sky

**Northeast of Table City**

Edward bit back a yell. The wind whistled in his ears, the chill bite of it making him pull the scarf back up over his mouth. The leather helmet with goggles protected his head and eyes, and the heavy jacket helped keep the wind from cutting into his skin. A harness tightened the jacket that much closer to his body, latching him into the dragon’s saddle. Beneath him, Petras roared, and he tightened his knees, knowing the sound meant she was about to fling herself sideways, up or down. He didn’t control his mount; she carried him like a dog carried a flea.

Above him – them – a quartet of ships hung in the air. Airships, fucking airships, with these little tiny buzzing things zipping around them like flies. Three dragons weren’t a match for the arsenal, but it didn’t stop them from trying. Spaso guided Alion into a sweep above one of the ships, the green dragon stooping onto the ship’s envelope. The dragon’s claws ripped into the skin, leaving behind a gaping hole. 

Andrea’s shrill scream caught his attention. Petras dove, forcing Edward to look ahead again. Gunshots – from machine guns – rattled through the air. Bolts of light swarmed like bees and one of the dragons bellowed. Not Petras. The only thing he could hear from her was the whistle of her body cutting through the air as she plunged down toward a two-winged airship. Clutching the handholds on the saddle, Edward flattened his body against her neck, the heat of her skin searing him through the thick clothes he wore. Her wings folded against her body, Petras dropped like an arrow from a bow, her body spinning as she fell. Edward gulped air, trying to keep from vomiting. 

Petras struck the flying machine, crashing down through it. Flinders exploded around Edward, making him duck and swear. He saw surprised faces, young men, maybe his age, as Petras unfurled her wings. The clap as her wings caught the air loud as thunder, and suddenly, she swooped up. The buzzing machines swirled after the falling men, their screams a siren call. Edward couldn’t help but watch as they dropped out of the sky. He didn’t know enough about controlling Petras to get her to dive after them. Suddenly, wings appeared from out of their backs, reminding Edward of the Black Bats. The men controlled their fall, sailing up and toward the cliff’s edge. Edward let out a sharp laugh. The men would survive, rather than fall to their deaths. 

More gunfire rattled the air. Heat sliced through Edward’s body, stealing his attention. He yelped and slapped at his shoulder. Petras squawked, rolling sideways. “Shit!” Edward yelled, grabbing for the saddle handholds. The dragon righted herself, banking in a sideways spiral and diving again, using the momentum to increase her speed when she began an abrupt climb toward an airship. Edward could count individual people in the ship, staring down at him. One raised a machine gun. The bore of the muzzle grew in size the closer they got. It chattered, blasts of fire erupting out, whizzing past Edward’s ear.

  
Art by [Dzioo](http://dzioo.deviantart.com/)   


Another dragon flashed by – _Helios_ , Edward realized, recognizing Andrea’s long hair – hitting the airship with stiffened forelegs. The wood groaned and cracked, a seam opening. One of the soldiers shouted, and sprayed bullets across one of his own crew. The man screamed, body dancing in pain. Edward shut his eyes as Petras rose higher in the sky, past the airships and the two-winged flying machines. Not for the first time, Edward thought Winry would love the machines.

“Home,” Spaso yelled in the radio tucked into Edward’s helmet, “Helios! Petras! Home!” Alion shrieked out an agreement, and Helios bellowed an answer. Petras swooped high above the airships. Edward could tell she fixed on them. Were dragons smart enough to calculate an attack? Or were they trained like falcons or hawks to go after certain prey? Freshening his hold on the saddle grips, Edward braced himself for another dive. Petras hovered for a few seconds, reminding him again of a hunting bird before she folded her wings against her body and dropped out of the sky. 

Wind whistled through Edward’s hair. He squinted even behind the goggles. His stomach rose to his throat; slammed down into his feet. His hair beat at his back like a quirt. Petras’s left wing twitched under his knee, and they spiraled, slow at first, then faster. Edward knew he’d puke if they ever stopped spinning. The airships were nothing but whirling blurs below, but getting closer by the semi-second. Edward swallowed hard, feeling his bowels starting to loosen. He was not gonna shit himself! 

Petras struck the airship like a lightning bolt. She cut through the envelope, setting it on fire. The gas exploding out of it clogged Edward’s throat. He whooped and coughed, trying to catch his breath as Petras fell faster. Her wings shot out, stopping them only a few meters from the cliff, close enough Edward swore he could see individual grains in the rock. Petras roared and swung her body to travel parallel to the cliff face, chasing after Helios and Alion. 

Edward glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the airship explode. He watched, helpless, as the men fell out of it, screaming before the wings of their uniforms snapped open. One wing froze, only opening partially, damaged in some way. The man wailed as he dropped out of the air, spiraling with the broken wing hanging in the air. The other soldiers dove after him, but Edward heard his scream cut off abruptly. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing the image would play out in his memories, would add in with the dreams that woke him out of sound sleep. “Damn it,” he whispered as Petras caught up to the other two dragons. He saw Andrea shoot him a worried look, blood masking half her face. How the hell had he gotten mixed up in another war?

**Central City, Amestris  
Office of the Fuhrer**

The sweet scent of tea perfumed the air, and Fuhrer Vandermeer Grumman inhaled deeply, enjoying the fragrance. His desk was almost clean, his bear was dust free, at least for the moment, and the sun outside shone gaily down on the city. A knock sounded at the door, and he said, “Come in,” reaching for his teacup.

“Sir? There’s an urgent telephone call for you from Border City,” Captain Walther said. From the slight tic of her mouth, it was something he definitely needed to take. 

Grumman nodded, setting his teacup back down and picking up the telephone receiver.  
“Grumman.” 

“Fuhrer Grumman, I’m glad you could take my call. This is Lieutenant General Pamela Sterling, from Border City. I have some bad news, sir, regarding Milos and Creta.”

“Is that so?” Grumman reached for his notepad, uncapping his fountain pen. “What is it, Lieutenant General?”

“Flying machines and dragons, sir.” 

Grumman blinked, realizing he hadn’t quite finished uncapping his pen. He did, setting the lid aside. “I’m sorry, Sterling, I think our line has some static on it. Can you repeat what you just said?” 

“Creta used an airship to attack the railroad line from Amestris to Milos, sir. While said airship was destroyed, Amestris cannot lay claim to its destruction. That was carried out by Milos.”

As it seemed Sterling had run out of steam, Grumman prompted, “And the Milosians used dragons to halt the attack.” 

“Yes, sir. I’m sure it sounds fantastic,” she said, as if she was sure he wouldn’t believe her.

“Oh, only a little, Sterling. Far less fantastic than some stories I’ve heard.” Grumman wrote, ‘dragons’ and ‘airships’ on his notepad, realizing he’d taken on a jolly tone guaranteed to rankle anyone. What could he say? It had been a way to hide his intelligence while exiled to the East, and he’d grown quite accustomed to playing the incompetent. “In the mean time, you say the train line is destroyed?”

“Yes, sir.” Her answer came short and clipped. “We don’t know if anyone survived the attack. If they did, Milos may have taken them to Table city, but we have not been able to establish contact with them to verify this intel.” She paused, as if turning something over in her mind. “Sir, are you aware of any State Alchemists who might be in Milos?”

Grumman pulled a face at the question. “No,” he admitted, “why?”

Sterling took a deep breath. “One of my lieutenants said the Fullmetal Alchemist,” if she heard Grumman’s faint hiss, she didn’t react, “was on the train when it was attacked, sir.”

“Edward Elric was on his way to Milos?” Grumman fought to keep the curiosity and shock out of his voice. Elric wasn’t a State Alchemist any longer. He’d resigned after the Promised Day, sticking around just long enough to take advantage of the military hospitals before leaving. Not that Grumman blamed the young man. Without alchemy, he couldn’t really be a State Alchemist. The problem lay in Elric claiming to still be an alchemist. He could be charged with impersonating a military officer, and the charge could carry some serious weight against Elric. “Was anyone else traveling with him?”

“Alphonse Elric and Winry Rockbell.” From the way she said them, Sterling read the additional names.

“Ah.” The brothers Elric and a civilian, if Grumman recalled correctly, though he did recognize her name in some manner. Why they were traveling to Milos, he had no idea. He remembered reading a report detailing the uprising which gave Milos its freedom from both Amestris and Creta. The Elric brothers and Mustang had been in Milos immediately prior to and during the revolution. Who had approved the brothers’s travel visas this time? If it had been through the military, Grumman might have been notified earlier, so Elric must have gone through civilian channels. “Well. Keep me appraised, Sterling. As soon as you know anything more, contact me, be it day or night.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And I’ll be arriving within the next few days, myself. I want a look at these flying machines. You said that one was destroyed by Milos?”

“Sir?” Sterling sound curious.

“Perhaps the remains can be collected for study by our weapons crafters, mechanics, and engineers.” 

That got a pleased purr out of Sterling. “Yes, sir. I’ll get a team on that immediately. However, the remains are in Death Canyon, so it could take a bit of time.” 

“Understandable. Is there anything else, Sterling?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I’ll wish you a good day,” he said, and replaced the telephone receiver in its cradle. Raising his voice, Grumman called, “Captain Walther?”

“Sir?” Walther stuck her greying head in the door. 

“I need arrangements to travel to Border City. It seems there is a matter of utmost urgency which I need to review, personally. And,” he raised a hand before she could leave the room, “could you please get me.” Grumman considered for a few seconds, discarding Mustang’s name as the man was in Ishval. The time it would take to contact him, much less schedule him to get to the west side of Amestris from the far east would be prohibitive, at best. There was someone Grumman knew had worked with the Elrics in the past, though, and he was here in Central City. “Colonel Alex Louis Armstrong, in Investigations? I would like him to travel with me. Please make sure he clears his schedule for the next, say, three weeks.”

Walther nodded. “Yes, sir, I’ll contact him immediately. Will you want a full detail to travel with you?” 

Grumman recapped his pen, setting it on his desk above his blotter. “Yes, I think that might be an excellent idea, Walther. Thank you.” 

“I’ll make the arrangements, sir.” The briefest of smiles touched her mouth before she left his office. 

Picking up his teacup, Grumman made a face at the taste of it. It’d gone cold and bitter, but he drank it anyway. Whatever game Elric was playing at, impersonating a State Alchemist, Grumman hoped it wouldn’t come back and bite Amestris in the posterior.


	7. Born of Sun and Sky and Sea

**Table City, Milos**

The clarion cut through Winry’s dreams like a nightmare, startling her awake. She sat up faster than her injuries could register, but pain struck, leaving her panting. Tears sprang to her eyes. Winry clutched her torso, gasping in shock. The siren still wailed, a counterpoint to her agony. 

Sirens had to mean something was happening. A cacophony sounded beyond Julia’s room, a jumble of voices rising and falling. Winry thought she heard fear in the noise, but didn’t know what frightened the Milosians. Gritting her teeth, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and stood up as carefully as she could. Her skull felt like it was going to pop up off her spine, but she forced herself to walk across the room and open the door.

It wasn’t as much chaos as she expected. Winry leaned her hand on the doorframe to keep herself steady, watching as the Milosians darted around. People seemed to be more focused than terrified. A man wearing a headband took charge of some kids, telling them they needed to get home, now. He glanced over, catching sight of Winry, and narrowed his eyes slightly. She raised her chin at his challenge. 

“Hurry now,” he said, pressing his hand into a little girl’s back to urge her along. 

“I don’t know where Marcus is!” she complained. “I can’t go without him!”

“He’ll be fine, Karina,” the man said. “But you need to get somewhere safe and out of the way.”

The little girl screwed up her face, like she was going to let out a sob. “Would you want to wait here, with me?” Winry broke in. “I don’t know what’s going on, and you could tell me. And I’m sure Mister, ah?” 

“Nega,” he said, as flatly as if squeezed between all the stone in Milos. 

Winry smiled her most disarming smile. “Mr. Nega will let Marcus know where you are.” She stretched her hand out to the girl. “Will you come with me? And tell me what’s going on?” 

“Karina?” Mr. Nega patted her shoulder. “Can you wait with this girl in Julia’s room?” 

“Okay,” Karina said, and trotted up the sloping floor to Winry. She took Winry’s hand, and pulled her back into the room. Winry bit back her cry of pain. “You have to close and lock the door.” 

“Oh, all right.” Winry let Karina direct her in the prescribed duties. 

Once the door was locked tight, Karina hopped into a chair at the table, swinging her feet. Winry thought she should offer the little girl something, but she wasn’t an alchemist, to be able to heat water for tea, and she wasn’t sure if there was another way to boil water. The lanterns and candles were for light, Winry could tell. As dim as it was in the room carved out of rock, she wanted some sort of illumination. “Are there matches or a flintlock around?” she asked Karina, hopefully.

“Mm, a flint is over on the bedside table.” Karina pointed Winry in the right direction.

After igniting a couple of lanterns to give them more light, Winry settled at the table across from the little girl. “My name is Winry Rockbell. What’s yours?”

Karina studied Winry with a gravity beyond her years. Winry wondered if she’d looked the same way after her parents died, or maybe after Edward and Alphonse tried to bring their mother back from the dead. “Karina Milan.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Karina.” Winry smiled at her. “Is your…brother? Marcus, is he older or younger than you?”

“Older,” she sighed with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “He thinks he knows so much!” 

“Older brothers can be a pain,” Winry agreed. 

“I could find Marcus,” Karina said. “I know where he is.” 

Winry asked, “Where? Is he trying to see what’s happening?” She wagged her finger at the ceiling. 

Karina made a disgusted face. “Maybe, but he’s probably in the tunnels so he can watch the dragons fly out!”

Something about the way Karina said it piqued Winry’s curiosity. “No one would notice him?” 

“Nuh uh.” Karina stuck out her lower lip. “He’s in our tunnels.” 

“Your tunnels? Why would that be any,” her voice trailed off as the implications hit. “You have tunnels that just you know about?” 

Eyes popping wide, Karina slapped both hands over her mouth. Her, “No!” came out muffled by her fingers. 

Winry leaned across the table, fixing Karina with her gaze. “Do you have secret tunnels?” Before Karina could answer, she asked, “Are they dangerous?” and wondered just when she’d started sounding like her mother. 

Karina blanched. “No, no! As safe as – as here!” She patted the table awkwardly. 

“But they are secret?” Winry scowled at her. 

Scowling back, Karina tried to stare Winry down. Her forehead wrinkled and her lower lip jutted out. 

Winry fought to keep from giggling, and made her voice as stern as she could. “Are they secret tunnels, Karina?”

“Gah!” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“Yes,” she whined, all but sprawling across the tabletop in misery at giving up the secret. 

“Who knows about the tunnels?” Winry asked. 

Karina shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“Karina.” 

Sighing, she said, “Marcus, Antonio, me, some of the other kids.” Another exaggerated exhalation. “Marcus is going to hate me!” 

“He won’t,” Winry said. “I’m not going to tell anyone. At least, as long as he’s okay. If he’s not okay, I have to tell your Mom and Dad. Deal?” 

“Okay,” Karina groused. She looked across the table at Winry. “Do you have brothers?” 

Winry laughed. “Well, kind of. I grew up with some boys. They’re the friends I’m traveling with. A few years ago, we came to Milos from Amestris, but we were only here for a couple of days before we left again, so I don’t really know a lot about Milos.” She spread her hands on the table top. 

“What do you want to know?” Karina asked, falling back into her seat. 

“Well,” Winry wriggled in her chair in an attempt to get comfortable. “I’d like to know why the sirens are going off.”

“Creta’s attacking,” Karina said, almost offhandedly, as if it was a common occurrence. Maybe it was. “They make us hide in the caves when the sirens go off, to keep us safe. The attacks don’t last long, but they’re scary.” She met Winry’s gaze. “Creta wants to take over Milos again and use us to find the Sanguine Stars! That’s why all the walls here look like that.” She pointed to the pock marks. “Someone dug there with a pick.” 

“Is that so?” Winry hoped she didn’t show any of her feelings about what Karina said. She’d seen the type of alchemy that could be done with a Sanguine Star – a Philosopher’s Stone. She’d watched a monster be reduced to a worm without its stone. And, more than ever, she was glad Edward and Alphonse hadn’t needed to use the stone to get their bodies – well, Al’s body back, and Ed’s arm. “I heard you all live in the caves now.” 

“Mm! It’s too dangerous to live up there.” Karina pointed toward the ceiling, but Winry read the sorrow in her dark eyes. “I miss the sun. And flowers! Flowers don’t grow down here.” Her face fell at the admission. 

Pressing her lips together, Winry nodded. “I had to stay in some caves before, when we were hiding out. It was hard, not seeing the sun.” She thought of something. “But maybe we could make some flowers?” 

Karina blinked a couple of times. “Make flowers?” 

“Well, we just need some fabric in pretty colors, and some thread, and maybe some wire.” Winry thought for a second. “Scissors to cut it up, and we’re done!” 

“Really?” Her face brightening, Karina leaned across the table again. “How?” 

“I’ll show you,” Winry said, pushing back in her chair. “Let me just find what we need.” There weren’t many places for extra fabric, or scissors, or thread to hide in Julia’s room, and she soon had a packet of needles and some thread. Scissors were harder to find, and she was still working on locating them when someone tried the door. Winry started at the sound of the rattle, her ribs reminding her again why moving fast was a bad idea when the pain sliced into her body. 

“Winry!” 

“Al?” She patted Karina’s shoulder as she made her way across the room to the door. Unlocking it, Winry pulled the door open. “What is it?” From the brief glimpse of Alphonse’s face, she knew. “What’s happened to Ed?”

“I’ll tell you on the way to the aerie,” Alphonse said, spying Karina as she hopped out of her chair. “Who’s that?”

“Karina, this is my friend, Al. He’s a friend of Julia’s, too. You stay here, and lock the door behind us, all right?” Winry asked, tilting her body best she could so it wouldn’t hurt to look at her young guest. 

“All right,” Karina said with a frown. “But when you come back, will you show me how to make flowers?” 

“Of course.” Winry smiled at her, laying her hand on Alphonse’s arm. “Remember, lock the door!” Waiting until after Alphonse pulled it to, she ordered, “Tell me now.” 

“He’s okay,” Alphonse said with a sigh. 

“But?” She put her hands on her hips, barely even wincing. 

“He’s mostly okay?” With a somewhat sickly smile, Alphonse spread his hands. 

Winry repeated, “Mostly?” As she read Alphonse’s expression, her heart pounded harder. “The aerie, Al. How do we get to the aerie?” 

“It’s farther away than the medical wing.”

“Then I’d better walk faster.” Clenching her jaw, Winry forced her body to work for her. If Edward could remember how to do alchemy when he was bleeding to death, she could certainly find the strength to reach him, no matter what kind of looks Alphonse gave her. 

X X X 

The aerie buzzed with people weaving their way through the dragons. The resulting din reminded Edward of the Central City train station – a continuous rumble of noise, punctuated by some shouts and steam whistle screeches. He wanted to collapse somewhere, away from all the hubbub, and thought Petras would be happy with that, too. 

Spaso had led them to a stall, warning Edward to try and keep Petras calm. There was no way it could be Petras’s stall. Andrea’d said the dragas and dragons were separated; but right now, Petras was in the male dragon’s aerie, in what had been a clean stall. Edward unhooked himself from her saddle, leaping off and out of her way. Landing hurt, but he could ignore the pain in his shoulder, especially when he got a good look at Petras’s wound. 

Petras held her right foreleg off the cave floor, blood dribbling down from a ragged wound to puddle beneath her claws. “Easy,” Edward said, touching her neck. She made a noise, something like a whine, pressing her head into his chest. Wrapping his good arm around her muzzle, Edward cradled her head against him. “They’ll fix you up, girl.” The smell of her blood reminded him of copper laced with cinnamon, and made his stomach curdle. He glanced away from her to the activity outside the stall.

People milled like ants in a disturbed nest, darting this way and that, calling for help. Andrea lay slumped over Helios’s neck, still harnessed to his saddle, and Edward could see blood coating her suit. He couldn’t tell if it was hers or her dragon’s. Spaso and Alion seemed to be in better shape, though Spaso limped, and his boot left a bloody print with each step he took. Alion held one wing out away from his body at an angle, hissing and tossing his head. Edward watched as a couple of people unhooked Andrea from Helios’s saddle, gently prying her up and off of Helios. The dragon swung his head around to nuzzle her and she cupped his chin. Edward thought she might’ve said something, but there was too much noise for him to make it out. Her hand dropped abruptly and Helios keened, nudging her with his nose, trying to get a reaction from her before she was carried out of his reach. 

To Edward’s eyes, Andrea looked too pale, her skin almost glowing in the dim light of the cavern. “Medic!” one of the men holding Andrea shouted. He took her weight, carrying her to a table and using his elbow to knock the items off the tabletop. Setting Andrea down, he placed his hands on her body, yelling again. 

Edward couldn’t make out the words through the buzzing in his own ears. He clung to Petras, locking his automail knee in an attempt to stay upright, cursing that there was nothing he could do to help Andrea. Taking a deep breath, he let go of the dragon’s muzzle. Maybe he could staunch the bleeding on Petras’s foreleg, if he could figure out a bandage. “Let me see your leg.” 

The saddle blanket looked like it could work. Edward grunted as he reached for the strap to unbuckle the saddle. His shoulder burned like a son of a bitch, and he ground his jaw to keep moving his wounded arm. Managing to loosen the saddle enough to drag the blanket out from under it, Edward wrapped it around Petra’s bleeding foreleg, putting pressure on the wound. The blood soaked through the blanket faster than Edward liked. Petras let out a funny little croak and sat down abruptly, nearly knocking Edward down with the way her leg flailed. He dodged back out of the way, waiting until Petras settled, lying down and curling her neck around so she could nose the blanket out of the way and lick the bleeding wound. 

Edward sank down next to her, losing control of his descent and landing hard. Still, he grunted, “No licking. I need to stop the bleeding.” As he tried to put the blanket back over the wound, Petras blocked him with her muzzle, her lip curling back. “Okay, fine! Just bleed.” He leaned against her thigh, letting his head fall back. His shoulder alternated from feeling like it was packed with ice, then scorched with fire. Someone ought to look at it, but Andrea and Petras needed medical care more than he did. 

With that in mind, he turned his head, searching through the people running around to the table. It looked like Julia might be over there, and maybe that asshole, Hoffman. Damn it, Hoffman would probably want to look him over, too. Edward huffed, wondering if anyone else could check his shoulder. Maybe whoever took care of the dragons? Probably would have a better bedside manner. Even Pinako treated him…well, maybe not better than Hoffman did. And if she knew the daydreams he had about her granddaughter. Edward stopped that thought right there. The way Pinako teased him about Winry, she knew. And Alphonse teased Winry about _him_. “Geeze.” 

The repetitive sound of Petra’s tongue rasping over her wound soothed him in some way Edward didn’t want to think about. He knew it was probably the adrenaline rush fading, but he wanted to curl up and sleep. Even all the racket going on around him did nothing to keep him alert, and he gave up, closing his eyes. 

“Ed!” 

Jerking awake, Edward raised his head, smiling a little at Alphonse before he realized Winry was with him. “Damn, I – I’m sorry, Winry! You got out of bed and – and – don’t you dare cry!” He pointed at her as she pushed away from Alphonse, rushing over to drop on her knees in front of him. 

“Ed, shut up!” Winry slapped his hand away, or maybe to get it out of her way, since she lunged at him, crushing herself against his chest. 

“Ow! Damn it, Winry!” Edward struggled in her rib-crushing hug, wincing as moving ignited his shoulder again. “Let go! Al, help me.” 

Alphonse squatted next to Winry, letting out a low whistle. “Julia said you were in bad shape, Ed, but.” He shook his head. 

Edward glowered. “I’m fine! It’s just a little wound – Petras is in worse shape than me.” He didn’t even want to think about Andrea and Helios. What was happening with them? He couldn’t see past Alphonse’s and Winry’s heads. 

Winry leaned back just enough to take all of him in. “You’re bleeding, you – Al! Get something we can bandage him up with!” Glaring, she said, “I’ll sew you up myself if I have to.” 

Alphonse snorted, but stiffened when Winry shot a look his way. “Yes’m. Don’t move, Ed. You still need to explain what happened.” 

“Nng.” Edward bared his teeth at Alphonse’s reminder. He’d rather wait to do that until after they were all patched up, but knew he couldn’t hold out. Julia would probably want to know, too, so he’d have to tell his story at least twice. Unless Spaso, Andrea, and he were all questioned together. Hearing a cheer, he tried to crane his neck, but couldn’t see anything. “What’s going on?”

Winry rocked back, turning slightly. “I don’t know. There’re too many people over there.” 

At Andrea’s table. Edward let out a relieved sigh. A cheer ought to mean she was going to be okay, or, at the very least, live. “Sorry I wasn’t there to bust you out of the hospital room.” 

Her flat look took in the dragon he leaned against. “Looks like you found something better to do than wait on me.” 

Petras raised her head, eyeing Winry the same way Winry eyed her. Edward wondered if dragons got jealous. “Winry, this is Petras. Petras, this is Winry.” Maybe introductions weren’t so stupid; look at how people offered dogs their hands to sniff. 

“You’re bleeding, too,” Winry said, with a worried note in her voice. “Ed! Scoot over so I can look at her wound.” 

“She’s worse off than me,” Edward said, resting his head against Petras’s flank again. It was getting harder to hold it up. “Yeah, look at her first, I’ll keep.” He was just going to close his eyes for a few seconds. It’d be okay. Alphonse and Winry were here. They’d make sure Petras got taken care of, then they could worry about him. 

“Idiot,” Winry said in that half-annoyed, half-caring way she had, and Edward smiled in response. If she wasn’t freaking out, he figured they’d be okay. It was the last thing he heard as he drifted off on a wave of darkness.

**Thessalia, Creta**

Eirene ran down to the pad, field glasses bouncing against her chest hard enough to leave bruises behind. She’d watched as much as she could from her vantage point, but the damned dragons destroyed this flight. Nine airships she’d sent out, five bi-wings and four airships, and too few returned. The radios had chattered about the dragons appearing up out of the valley, and their surprise attack. The bi-wings hadn’t been prepared for a battle, and had been torn asunder by the dragons. As the attack happened, Eirene shouted for her men, ordering crews to ready for a defensive attack, but the dragons left the field before Eirene’s men could launch the ships. 

“Launch for recovery!” she shouted, climbing into one of the airships. The problem with the ships was they weren’t particularly fast, especially with a headwind. She thought Lamonan needed to work harder at designing larger engines and propellers to give the ships better speed. As it was, the airships moved at about the speed of an automobile, but the dragons traveled so much faster. The bi-wings sped along like bees, but they couldn’t land on the ground without a runway, and the airships could. 

It took about fifteen minutes to reach the wreckage. A smoke plume rose up out of the canyon floor, pinpointing where they needed to go. Eirene leaned on the railing, using her field glasses to try to locate any survivors below. The canyon winds blew against the ship, forcing her to widen her stance to keep her balance. She tried to keep from imagining the fall from the heights, and how her men might’ve felt, following their ships down to the ground so far below. Stomach clenching, she fought to keep from vomiting. 

“Descending now!” the airship captain shouted, and the ship began its controlled fall to the canyon floor. 

Eirene trained her glasses on the broken shell, hoping someone might still be alive, that her men had been able to use the shoulder wings to soar to the ground safely. Steeling herself, she swept the lenses toward the battered bi-wings littering the canyon floor. As fragile as they were, she had less hope the pilots would’ve survived, but there was always a possibility. The ship descended farther down into the canyon, the sun vanishing behind the cliff wall, making Eirene blink. Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, and, for an instant, she almost wished they hadn’t. The damage below made her stomach twist tighter. 

The attack destroyed her men, leaving behind only wreckage. Eirene dropped the glasses on her chest, wrapping her hands around the railing. The cold metal burned her palms, giving her something else to concentrate on as the airship finally bumped lightly on the ground. The crew bustled around her, anchoring the ship to make sure it didn’t take off without them, and throwing the gangplank down into the damp soil. The plank squelched as it landed. 

“Colonel?” Captain Therrel laid his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll go together.” 

Eirene straightened her spine. “Thank you, Captain.” Pulling a pair of gloves out of her pocket, she pulled them on, adjusting the cuffs. “This is a rescue, not a salvage. If there is any life, we’ll be bringing our men home. If not, we’ll bring the bodies back for a proper burial. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” The four men shouted their agreement, and Eirene nodded, leading the way off the airship, expecting the worst, but still, allowing herself a smidgen of hope.


	8. Here Be Dragons

**Thessalia, Creta**

The sun set over the canyon, staining the stone walls in shades of orange and red. Lamonan paced along the edge of the landing strip, hands twisting a sheaf of papers together. The airship engines echoed off the canyon walls, the sound of it letting him know the ships would be here soon. Putting his first finger and his little finger in the corners of his mouth, Lamonan blasted a whistle to alert the swabs and medics. He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, “Incoming!”

The first ship landed and the medical team swarmed the cabin with the swabs, who caught the ropes tossed from the crew, pulling the ship out of the way of the next one landing. The medics climbed into the ship before it was properly anchored, letting Lamonan know someone, at least, had survived the Milosian attack. Tucking the papers in the back pocket of his pants, he ran to the second ship, catching a rope and helping to pull the ship into the hanger. “Colonel,” he shouted, spotting her, “permission to speak to you immediately.” 

Her dark eyes snapped. “Let me see to these men first, Mr. Lamonan.” 

“You’re not a medic,” he argued, making her hackles rise. Yes, he’d drawn blood, and he’d pay for it unless he could distract her. Lamonan knew he could, if she’d just listen to what he had to say. “And we need to discuss this attack.” Zoglakis didn’t wait for the ramp to drop, she hopped the railing, landing hard. Lamonan yanked the papers from his pocket, waving them in front of her. “I have an idea!” 

“My men are dying,” she snarled, grabbing the front of his shirt. Somehow, Zoglakis swelled up like a great Northern bear, her mouth full of sharp teeth and flame in her eyes. “We need better engines, more maneuverability, heavier weapons, stronger frames! We need to take those dragons out of the sky!” 

Lamonan said nothing as she roared her rage, letting it blow past him. “Yes, yes,” he said, “but we must be more clever than the Milosians, don’t we? We do not have these things, not yet.” He held up his hands to forestall another onslaught of her words. “What we do have is our brains!” Tapping her hard in the center of her forehead, Lamonan went on, “We have our intelligence. Yes, Milos has greater maneuverability, and speed, and those dragons are very dangerous to any airship we put against them. But who says we have to fight on their level?”

Though she still bristled, at least Zoglakis’s eyes sparked with curiosity, along with fury. “What do you mean?”

Lamonan smiled at his colonel, covering her hands with one of his own. Leaning closer, he whispered, “I mean, my dear Eirene, that we should be looking to the land, rather than the air.” 

Rage flew from her face as the implication came clear. A knife blade smile slowly curled her mouth. “Yes, Mr. Lamonan, I think you’re right.” Plucking the papers from his hand, she unfolded them with a snap. “Maps of Death Canyon and Milos.” Her smile widened. “Yes, Mr. Lamonan, your idea certainly has merit. Come with me, we’ll discuss it further.” Zoglakis slapped the maps back into his hand and walked away from the airships, shouting over her shoulder, “Keep me informed of the men’s status at all times! I want a report on the hour!” 

“Yes, sir!” various voices rang out. 

Lamonan joined Zoglakis, smiling. Yes, he thought, in a very short time, Milos would belong to Creta again, and his colonel would be elevated to a better position. He would be riding on her coattails, at least until the wings of the machines he’d created gave Creta an edge over any other country in the world.

**Table City, Milos**

Julia straightened, wiping her hands clean and shaking out the cloth afterward before hanging it up. She smoothed her palms down over her apron, hoping it would hide how her hands trembled. Andrea would be all right, but she’d be out of action for at least a month, maybe longer. She’d hate that, but it was better than being dead. Still, it’d been close, too close. Andrea opened her eyes at one point, and it’d made it harder, dealing with the wound. Julia had forced herself to smile at her friend, and helped Dr. Hoffman stitch up the wound.

Now, she wished she could go hide away and cry. She had too many duties in Milos; leader and healer and dragon rider; teacher to the children when she had the time, counselor of those who needed it. And now, she had decisions to make, and needed to talk to Daniel and Edward about the Cretans, and the attack. Hoping that someone had taken care of the men and their dragons, Julia took off her bloodied apron and tossed it in a basket for it to be cleaned later. The idea of stitching someone else up today made her shake. 

“Good job, Julia,” Dr. Hoffman said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

“Thank you.” Hoping he might be able to help, she asked, “Have you seen Daniel? Or Ed? I need to talk to both of them about what happened.” 

“The last I know, Elric’s brother was cadging needle and thread.” He spread his hands. “That’s all I know.” 

Of course. Julia nodded her thanks, and went out into the corridors to try to find Daniel. Someone would always know, despite the size of the community. The speaking tubes had been destroyed after Atlas made the Sanguine Stars, to keep anyone else from attempting the same thing. Even when they did exist, they didn’t extend this deeply into the rock. Still, Julia couldn’t help but wish she could pop one open, and yell that she needed Daniel, instead of having to traipse all over, and talk to everyone. That’s what she didn’t want to do, talk. If she spotted a couple of the kids, she promised herself she’d send them to find Daniel, so she could go and rest. Julia told herself it wouldn’t be hiding, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. 

Daniel, at least, was probably in the aerie, so Julia made her way through the corridors, hoping to find him. By the time she reached the large caverns stabling the male dragons, she’d verified Daniel’s whereabouts. He was taking care of the three dragons involved in the skirmish. She found him in Helios’s stall, soothing Andrea’s dragon. Someone had stitched Helios’s wounds. Daniel smeared ointment on those wounds while singing, not quite under his breath. 

Clearing her throat, Julia drew the attention of them both. She spread her hands, smiling, though it felt weak, and likely to melt away. “Andrea’s going to be all right. I just left her.” 

Helios cocked his head, a rumbling sound rising through his body. Julia swore it sounded like purring, but a far more massive sound than any cat could make. Daniel laughed, sagging against Helios’s chest. “That’s good news!”

“Yes,” Julia nodded, slipping under the rope. Daniel opened his arms and she went to him, wrapping herself around him. Helios looped his neck around her back, rubbing the crest of his head against her spine. Reaching back, she rubbed Helios’s cheek while his purr vibrated through her body. Not for the first time, she wondered just how much the dragons understood, but right now, it didn’t matter.

**Table City, Milos**

Alphonse groaned, sitting on the sandy stall floor. Petras lay curled up, watching Winry as she layered ointment on her foreleg. Edward still leaned against Petras’s flank, also watching Winry, with a stupid, sappy smile on his face. Alphonse snorted to himself, thinking his brother was so smitten.

“What’s that, Al?” Edward asked, craning around to look at him. 

“Oh, nothing.” He couldn’t stop his own grin, though, and the sight of it made Edward narrow his eyes. 

Edward pursed his mouth. “Sounds like something.” 

“It is something,” Winry said, sounding cross, and Edward’s expression slid from antagonistic glare to something decidedly more worried. “You don’t know anything about dragons, and yet, you went flying? And worse,” she wagged an oily finger at him, “you went with your leg all busted up!”

“It’s not busted up!” Edward snarled. He bent his knee and flexed his ankle as proof. “Old man Gon fixed it up for me!”

“So you went to another automail engineer?” Winry turned to face him, and Alphonse bit his lip, wondering if his brother could wriggle his way out of this one. 

Edward didn’t back down. “You were laid up, and I couldn’t move my knee! Besides, Gon said you’d have to finish repairing it – it’s just a patch job!” 

“So you took a ‘patch job’, and got on a dragon’s back, and got into an aerial fight?” When Winry’s voice tightened like that, it meant she was either furious or frightened, or both. Alphonse shifted his weight, pressing his back into the wall in case he needed to get to his feet quickly. “And you and Petras both got shot!” 

“So did Andrea and Helios, and they’re in a lot worse shape.” As if realizing this would hurt his argument, Edward backpedaled, waving his good hand. “It wasn’t our fault, Winry! We didn’t know Creta would be flying their little air…wingy things.” 

Winry leaned down, her nose a scant breath from Edward’s. “Wingy. Things?” she repeated. 

Petras clattered her tongue, her wings raising slightly as she shoved her head in between Winry and Edward. She clattered again, using her head to push Winry back a couple of stumbling steps. 

“Hey!” Winry yipped at the same time Alphonse pushed to his feet. 

Edward threw his arms around Petras’s neck. Grunting, he tried to pull her back. She didn’t give. “It’s okay, Petras.” He gave Winry a wide-eyed look. “It’s just…it’s how we are.” 

Art by [M7Angela](http://m7angela.tumblr.com/)

Alphonse mentally ran through transmutation circles. What could he use to cage the dragon to keep her from biting Winry? Winry put her hands on her hips. “Hey,” she said sternly, glaring at Petras. “I’ve known Ed a lot longer than you have!” 

“And I like arguing with Winry!” Edward chimed in. “She yells at me for doing something stupid,” his skin started turning pink, “and I yell back, because I know she’s right, but I’m not about to admit it! It’s what we do to show we care about each other!”

Thinking the floor had dropped out from under him at what his brother just announced, Alphonse gaped. It was the closest that Edward had come to admitting his feelings for Winry. And from the expression on her face – oh, the blush, and the trembling smile – she knew it. And Edward realized it, too, and his face went redder than the dragon next to him. “Brother, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Alphonse said, not about to let him get away with saying something like that and not needling him about it. 

Edward gnashed his teeth, growling, “Fuck off, Al!” 

“Ed!” Winry slapped his good arm across Petras’s neck. 

“Winry!” Edward snapped at her. 

Petras rumbled, and she lifted her head, making Edward slide down to her withers. She peered at him, then at Winry. Neither of them relaxed the battle stance they’d each taken. Alphonse cleared his throat. “It really is the way they are.” 

Snorting, Petras shook her body, making Edward let go and sending him off-balance. He slammed into Winry. Both of them staggered. Edward grabbed for Winry, his automail groaning. Winry dropped her eyes toward his leg at the same time the knee joint gave out. Edward squalled, wind milling his arms. One hand tangled in the neck line of Winry’s tunic. She squealed, grabbing Edward’s wrist. Petras jerked her head back, her wings coming out as she leaped to her feet. Without her bulk to balance against, Edward began his slow fall, dragging Winry down with him. They crashed to the floor of the stall like a tree falling. Edward landed on top, his eyes huge in his face. Winry lay under him, stunned into silence. 

Alphonse felt frozen in place, unable to move, until Winry squeaked, “Ed, get off of me!” It was if her words broke Alphonse loose, and he rushed over, helping Edward peel himself up and away from Winry. From her glare, Alphonse was glad there weren’t any wrenches anywhere nearby. 

“I’m sorry!” Edward said, even as Alphonse helped him retreat out of range of Winry’s ire. 

Pushing herself up to a sitting position, Winry pointed at Edward. “You’re not going anywhere!” she snapped. 

“Eep.” Edward flinched under Alphonse’s hands. 

“Except somewhere I can work on your leg!” Her finger stabbed at Alphonse. “You’d better be ready to help him get to Mr. Gonzales’s automail shop!” 

He only just refrained from saluting her. “Y-yes, ma’am!” 

The noise Petras made sounded suspiciously like a snort. Winry narrowed her eyes at the dragon, too. “And you.” She picked herself up off the floor, stalking over to Petras. “You.” The rage boiled out of her, and she cupped Petras’s head in her hands, leaning close and whispering, “Thank you for bringing him back to me alive.” 

Petras pressed her head against Winry’s chest, making a rumbling sound that reminded Alphonse of a cat’s purr. Sighing shakily, Winry closed her eyes, rubbing Petras’s cheeks. “Okay,” she said, pulling away almost reluctantly, but brightening as she focused on the brothers, “let’s go get Ed fixed up.” 

“I’m sorry, Winry, I need to see him first.” Julia stood on the other side of the stall barricade, a thin rope, Alphonse thought, considering how big and strong a dragon had to be. “I heard you and Petras were wounded, Ed.” Lifting the rope, she ducked under it into the stall. “I’m sorry you were hurt, both of you.” Julia offered Petras her hand, and the red dragon nuzzled her palm. 

“Petras got hurt worse than me,” Edward said. His borrowed pants didn’t have pockets, so he hooked his thumbs through the belt around his waist. “How’re Andrea and Helios?”

Hands faltering in petting Petras, Julia said, more to the dragon than any of them, “Andrea is going to be okay! And we’ll bring her down to Helios. He’s started humming.” 

“Huh?” Alphonse asked, cocking his head.

“Humming, like Petras is. Purring, maybe.” She started stroking Petras’s ears. “We’re not sure how, but it promotes healing, both in the dragons and whoever’s closest to them.” At the questioning sound Winry made, Julia smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know how it works, I just know it does. Ed, if you stay here with Petras, your wound will heal a lot faster. And Petras’s will, too, because of her humming.”

“That’s weird.” Edward wrinkled his nose. His issues with the idea didn’t stop him from wriggling away from Alphonse and leaning against Petras again. Alphonse noticed the lines on Edward’s face faded. Maybe there was something to it, even if it didn’t make sense to him. 

“Huh,” Winry said, folding her arms. 

“But I still need to ask you about what you saw, Ed.” Julia wagged her hand in apology. “Can you tell me?”

Edward blinked a couple of times, and Alphonse hid a smirk when his brother glanced at Winry, as if deciding if he wanted her to hear. She raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to try to send her away. Huffing, he said, “Yeah, sure, what do you want to know?”

“Daniel said the Cretans had new flying machines. I need your description of them, too.”

“Ah. Well.” Scowling, Edward cast around, finally spying something. He pushed off of Petras’s flank and stalked off, gesturing for them to follow. Leading them to a blackboard set up to list what dragons were available for flight, which ones were unable to fly at any given time, and a feeding schedule, he used the heel of his hand to wipe a space on the corner of the board. Edward found a piece of chalk and sketched a rough diagram. “Two wings, with some struts, and engines, with two spinning pieces. One person was in it. They shot at us, but they might’ve run out of bullets or something, because they didn’t fire for very long.” 

Winry craned around Edward to get a good look. “Really?” she asked. 

“How many did you see?” Julia rubbed her chin, her expression pensive. 

Alphonse tilted his head to the side, studying the drawing as Edward said, “Four? Five? I don’t know for sure. It was kind of crazy up there. Those big airships with the balloons, like the one that attacked our train car, there were four of those. Both kinds of airships had guns.” He grimaced, aborting a reach for his wounded shoulder. “No cannons this time.” 

“How did they fly?” Winry turned to Edward, pointing at the drawing. 

Edward snapped, “I’m not the engineer! They had engines and spinning blades on them. But they weren’t built very sturdy.” He gestured back over his shoulder toward Petras. “She shattered one of them by hitting it,” he said, and used his good hand to describe Petras’s dive. 

“It’s too late to send anyone out to look at the wreckage,” Julia murmured.

“Hmm?” Alphonse just caught what she said. “Why?”

“Creta retrieves as much of their wreckage as they can. They don’t want us to figure out what they’re building, or how they manufacture it, so we can counter it.” Julia sighed, but managed a smile for Edward. “Thanks for telling me, Ed. It helps. Do you mind doing another drawing, on paper? And maybe coming to a meeting, if I need you?”

“Yeah, I guess?” He exchanged a glance with Alphonse. 

“Thank you.” Julia touched his good shoulder in emphasis. “You should get some rest. All of you.” 

“What are you going to do?” Alphonse asked. 

Julia didn’t hesitate. “I have to collect Daniel, then we’ll meet with my councilors. Don’t worry, I won’t make you go with me. If I need you, Ed, I’ll send someone to get you.” 

“Not worried,” Edward grumbled.

Alphonse waved him off. “I could go with you. They don’t need me right now.” 

A sly light gleamed in Edward’s eyes. “No, we don’t. You go with Julia,” he said. “We’ll be okay.” 

“Well.” This time, Julia did pause. “If you’d like to come with me, Al, I’d be honored. 

He thought she might be blushing. His own face felt warm and Alphonse tugged at his collar, wondering why it suddenly seemed so tight. “Ah, all right.” Offering her his arm, he grinned brightly when she took it. “You two, rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Edward wagged his hand, already distracted and thinking about something else. 

“Have fun, Al,” Winry said, and her knowing wink made his face heat up more. 

“You, too, Winry,” he jibed, pleased when she gulped and her fair skin flushed. “Shall we, Julia?” 

“Yes, Al, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder as they walked away. “Are Ed and Winry, uh.” Julia tapped her fingers on his arm, obviously searching for the words. “What’s going on with them?” she finally blurted out. 

Alphonse sighed. “I’m not sure they know what’s going on with them! They’re both such idiots, sometimes.” He tilted his head to meet Julia’s eyes. Really, he thought as she smiled up at him, there was something incredible about a pretty girl’s smile. Some time, his brother was going to figure that out. For now, he’d bask in the warmth Julia showed him, and enjoy it while he could.

**Thessalia, Creta**

Eirene leaned her hands on the maps Lamonan had laid out on her desk. He’d used model ships and figurines to represent both the Cretan and the Milosian troops. She’d ask where he’d gotten dragon figurines later; for now, she was pleased at his cunning. Straightening to meet her engineer’s eyes, she smiled. “This is an excellent idea.”

“I thought you might find it intriguing, Colonel.” He smiled back at her, rubbing the crown of his head and making his hair stand up on end. 

“Thank you, Mr. Lamonan. I’ll need some time to think this over, and make plans. But your idea has a great deal of merit.” Eirene saw him out the door, closing it behind him and turning back to her map. Why she hadn’t seen the land bridge from Creta to Milos boggled her. Well, she had seen it, but never considered the implications of using it to invade Milos. The airships held her heart. Now she’d need those as a decoy, and as many soldiers as she could get to plan the attack. 

Tracing the indication of the land bridge on her map with a fingertip, Eirene smiled. She reached for a second map, unrolling it and holding it up at eye level. Her memories could still be trusted, with this map of the tunnels beneath the cliff walls. Mining maps could provide a great deal of information, and this one showed a way down through the cliffs on the Creta side, into Death Canyon, and over to the caverns beneath Table City. 

Wondering how many soldiers she could actually pry out of Generalissimo Zirimis’s hands, Eirene rolled up her map, replacing it in its pigeonhole. If she could get even his aide to attend the battle, she could show off how effective her airships and the bi-wings could be, providing air support to the troops below. She sat down at a table with a notepad, quickly writing herself some reminders of what to say when she called Zirimis’s line. She had to butter the man up to be able to get anything, but she was sure the idea of taking Milos and moving forward into Amestris might shake loose enough troops for a full-scale invasion, rather than this cat-and-mouse game she’d been playing with Milos for the past few months. 

Putting pen to paper, Eirene began drafting her salvos.


	9. The Sky Dreams of Dragons

  
****

****

Thessalia, Creta

Eirene stood in front of her men, her hands behind her back. Lamonan and his engineers stood off to the side, looking decidedly uncomfortable away from their machines. The rest of her troop stood at attention, waiting for her to speak. She savored the feeling of the eyes upon her, imagining what she was going to say, and what their reactions might be. Turning away from them, she picked up an outfit, holding it up against her body. “You all know what this is.”

“Milosian scum clothes!” came an answer. 

Eirene recognized his voice. “Yes, Dmitri, that, too. But first and foremost, it is a way to infiltrate Milos without drawing attention.” She smiled, waiting for the conversational buzz to die down. Lamonan startled. Eirene knew he’d realized she’d embellished on his idea. Whether he was angry didn’t bother her, one way or another. “Now.” She set the clothes aside. “I’m going to ask for ground troop volunteers to infiltrate Milos. You will be given weapons, but nothing that would draw attention if you were spotted carrying them in Table City. Once you’ve infiltrated, one of your jobs will be to poison the dragons.”

Cheers rose up at that order, and Eirene knew she’d have plenty of volunteers. Raising her voice to be heard, she said, “You’ll also need to locate the Milosian munitions and destroy them.” 

The roar grew, bouncing off the walls and echoing in the chamber. Eirene let the sound build, basking in the adulation from her men, finally raising her hands to quiet them down. “Who’s volunteering for this mission?” 

Hands flew up on all sides, from Lamonan’s engineers to her swabbies and navvies to the tower crew. Eirene nodded, searching the faces for those most eager, but also the steadiest men and women. She needed people who could act on her orders, yet think for themselves as necessary. Making her choices, she called them by name, handing over the clothing to those she chose. “Get changed, and meet me back here in a half an hour.” 

Lamonan joined her as she dismissed the rest of the men. “This seems like an excellent plan, Colonel.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Lamonan, you’ll be given credit as credit’s due. I’m not one to claim all the glory.” She turned her head to study him deliberately. “Your idea inspired me, after all.” 

He bowed his head. “Thank you, Colonel.” 

Eirene gave him a smile in return. “I need to get ready to meet with my men. I’ll speak with you later.”

Lamonan left her standing there. Eirene tapped her fingers on her thigh, looking up at her airships. Her airships. Her bi-wings. Her men, who’d bring down Milos. A tight smile crossed her face, but she didn’t have time to linger. Her men were returning, dressed as Milosians, and she marched them to the dispensary, requisitioning certain weapons, as well as the poison, for them. 

“Follow me,” she ordered, once all the weapons and additional items were stowed away or strapped down. Eirene led them to an elevator car, and together, they rode down deep into the bowels of the cliff. 

Mining had created tunnels in the cliff walls around the canyon; not to mention, there were a few lava tubes left over from when Mount Polos had been active. When the elevator car stopped at the bottom of the shaft, Eirene opened the gate, and let her men out. “All right, men,” she said. “Come along.” She could feel her men behind her. If she glanced over her shoulder, she knew what she’d see – Milosian outfits. Fortunately, Milosians had similar skin and hair colors to Cretans or her plan might be fouled before it even had a chance to fly. Her faint grin at her own joke vanished as she turned crisply to face her men. These weren’t her navvies, well, one was. The rest were ground crew, doing something they’d never been trained for, but she had faith in them. 

“All right, men.” Eirene let them see her smile, then sobered. “Once you exit this corridor, you will be in Milosian – hostile – territory. You were chosen because of your ability to act more than anything. You must _act_ like a Milosian. Smile at them. Make conversation. Try not to gather together. Too many strangers in a clump can bring on suspicions. There are only ten of you on this mission, but you ten are playing a very important part.” 

“Yes, sir!” they shouted. 

“Now, it’s early morning. The Milosians will be entering the canyon to salvage our trash soon. You should mingle with them, collect anything salvageable you can. You won’t be able to avoid conversation, and you shouldn’t be rude. Instead, you must be focused on your job. When leaving this tunnel, you should trickle out there, one by one. Do not.” Eirene raised a finger in warning. “Do not go all at once. You do not want to attract attention to yourselves, this bolt hole, or Creta. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” 

“Good. You each have an important part to play in the invasion. You have your own assignments, and you know what they are. Do not gather together to discuss them. Do what you need to do. If you can leave Milos afterward, do so, but do not attract attention.” Eirene studied each of them in turn, considering what she should tell them. General Zirimis wanted to move on into Amestris as soon as Milos was back under Creta’s rule. “You will remember your orders, and act accordingly. Do not start fights with the Milosians. You are supposed to be their friends, their compatriots. If a Milosian says something disparaging about Creta, you smile, and laugh, and agree. But if a Milosian says something about Amestris, you listen close, and remember, so you can tell me afterward. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” 

“Excellent.” Eirene walked alongside them, a steady stroll, meeting each of their eyes in turn. She needed them to be both sharp and clever. She’d chosen some excellent soldiers, dedicated to Creta. Dedicated to her. Pausing next to one of them, she tugged his belt into proper position. “Remember,” she repeated. “You have two days to accomplish your tasks. And, above all else, come back to me safely. I have lost too many of you already.”

“Yes, sir!” Their shout rang in the corridor, nearly deafening her. 

Eirene saluted them, receiving ten snapped salutes back. “Go,” she said, and gestured toward the canyon, and Milos. The first of her men, Kastner, walked toward the opening. Two other soldiers waited there, to guide him on out into the canyon. They’d been tasked with keeping watch, and would make sure each soldier left the tunnel when it was safe for Creta. 

Pausing toward the far end of the line, Eirene beckoned. “Dmitri. Walk with me.” 

“Sir!” He vacated his spot in line, and the next two soldiers moved up to fill in the gap. Dmitri kept stealing glances at her as she led him away from the line, but Eirene didn’t acknowledge his curiosity. Not until they were a good distance away and wouldn’t be overheard. 

Eirene stopped, turning to face him. Dmitri halted abruptly, his eyes widening fractionally in surprise. He fell into a parade rest stance. “Stop that,” she said, “you’re a Milosian, a digger, not a soldier.” As Dmitri adjusted his stance, Eirene nodded. “You have a special task, Dmitri. You are the one I specifically trust to poison the dragons. I don’t know how many of those cursed animals there are, but I want them to pay for taking out our ships.” 

Dmitri moistened his lips, his face brightening. “I will make you proud, Colonel.” 

“I have no doubt in that, Dmitri.” Clasping his shoulders, Eirene gave him a quick shake. “But be careful. Those beasts can be dangerous.”

“I will, sir.” 

“Then go and return soon.”

“Yes, sir!” Dmitri threw a last salute and ran back to join the end of the line. 

Folding her arms, Eirene watched as her soldiers made their way out of the corridor and into the canyon. From now until their return, they were on their own. She expected over half of them would make it back, if they kept their heads and didn’t do something foolish to attract attention. As it was, any mayhem they caused would help her, and the rest of the troops, in softening Milos for the planned attack. Two days wasn’t much time, but Eirene knew she and her men could pull it off. 

All she had to do was wait for them to return.

**Table City, Milos**

The grooms and stable hands for the dragons seemed to be quieting down, but the stone room still rumbled like thunder, even without people buzzing through it. It took a few seconds for Edward to realize the dragons made the noise. The natural arch of the cavern caught the sound, amplified it, and it reverberated through the cave. He could feel it even through the floor, rising up through his boots. How did the humming influence healing? Was it the vibration? Was that why his wound wasn’t even stinging? He really needed to talk to Alphonse about it. Maybe the Xingese bean girl had said something about dragons and healing to him while they were together.

Lanterns dotted the cavern, providing a dim illumination. Edward glanced toward the landing bay, seeing only purple shadows out of it. How did the Milosians stand it, living underground? That little bit of sun he’d caught earlier today didn’t seem like nearly enough. Did Alphonse and Winry feel the same way? They hadn’t been out of Table City since the rescue. He cast a glance sideways at Winry as they ambled – staggered? – together back toward Petras’s stall. Maybe, tomorrow, if she was up for it, he should take Winry at least to the landing, let her see the sun. She might like that. 

The realization he was thinking of ways to make Winry smile made a vein in his temple pulse. “Nng!” Edward groaned, rubbing his forehead. 

“Is something wrong?” Winry asked, blinking up at him. Her eyes glowed in the dim light. Not that he was paying attention to how Winry looked. Really, he _wasn’t._

“I’m just tired and tired of hurting,” he whined, covering up. “My head hurts, my eyes hurt, my shoulder hurts! I want some aspirin.” 

Winry scoffed. “You don’t hurt.” 

“I do!” Edward showed her his teeth, but curious, asked, “Why do you think I don’t?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know you, dummy. When you’re in real pain, you shut up, and grit your teeth. You turn pale and you sweat. And it shows in your eyes.” Stopping him outside Petras’s stall with a hand on his arm, Winry stood on her toes, pushing his bangs up and out of his face to peer directly into his eyes. “You’re not in pain.” She cocked her head to the side. “Well, maybe a little.” 

Edward raised his eyebrows, trying to hide how his body flushed up from how close she stood. Going on the offensive, he barked, “A little? My head’s pounding! And my shoulder – are you sure you sewed it up good?” Twisting his neck, he tried to look at the pad of fabric she’d anchored with some gauze. “How do I know you did a good job?” 

Snorting, Winry dropped her hands and turned away from him. “You know me, too! When have I ever been sloppy?” She sidestepped a couple of kids running through the cavern, each of them carrying a bucket full of something goopy. 

Edward dodged sideways to keep from getting splashed. The smell of whatever was in the buckets was enough to make his eyes water. “Ugh.” 

“Ugh?” Winry got that look on her face and her hands fisted on her hips. 

Edward raised his good hand, trying to ward off her anger. “That was for whatever was in those buckets! Not what you said. And how many times did you fall asleep in class when we were kids?”

“Like you did any better, reading alchemy books!” She shook a finger in his face. 

He leaned back from her finger. Mouth twitching, Edward asked, “Feel better?”

“About what?” She glared at him, in her familiar way. 

There were times when Winry got under his skin, as irritating as a splinter, and other times, when he realized just how much he needed her. He caught a strand of her hair and gave it a tweak, grinning when her anger transmuted to confusion. “Yelling at me. Got it out of your system?”

Her mouth dropped open to answer him, but no sound came out. Snapping her mouth closed again, Winry pouted for a few seconds. Her hands relaxed out of their fists. “Maybe. I’m sure you’ll do something stupid, and I’ll need to yell at you about it again soon.” 

She was probably right, but Edward wasn’t about to admit it. “Yeah? What if I don’t?” 

“You will.” Winry sounded so sure of herself. From her grin, she figured it’d happen soon, too. 

“Huh.” Glancing in at Petras, Edward hooked a thumb at Winry. “Do you hear this? Do you believe it?” Petras snorted in response, tucking her nose under her hind leg. She reminded Edward of Den, lying like that. “No opinion, huh?” 

“Petras is smart enough to stay out of it. Like Al.” Winry elbowed him, but lightly, as if she’d actually paid attention when he said he was hurting. 

Edward grunted anyway, blocking her with his arm in case she tried it again. “Aren’t you tired? Don’t you need to lie down or something?” 

Winry seemed to consider it. “I’m okay,” she said, with a tone of wonderment. She peered at Edward again. “And your eyes…they’re not black any more.” Turning to Petras in her stall, she whispered, “Do you really think they can heal us?” 

“Maybe? It’d be something to study, wouldn’t it? Maybe we could figure out a way to heal people faster, if we could find out how it works!” It’d be a way to help everyone in Amestris, if they could decipher it. Edward wished he hadn’t lost his journal when Creta attacked. He needed to keep track of his symptoms, and whether there were any changes when he left the aerie. And Winry, she needed to write down her symptoms and observations, too. Alphonse was already healed. It didn’t matter with him. They almost needed someone else to use as a test subject who wasn’t around the dragons, but Edward could almost guarantee it wouldn’t happen here in Milos. Now that they had the dragons, and had learned of the healing properties, he didn’t know why the medical ward wasn’t closer. 

“What are you thinking?” Winry asked. 

Glancing down at her – and it was still a jolt, to look down into her eyes, instead of up – Edward grinned. “I think I know something I want to study.” He pointed at Petras without looking away from Winry. 

“Oh, geeze.” Winry clapped a hand to her forehead. 

“What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I think we’d better figure out a way to get back to Amestris before you start researching dragons!” 

“But.” Edward folded his arms. “It’s important to understand this. You know what the implications are! You – you’re a healer, yourself.” 

Winry held up a finger. “These dragons belong in Milos. They’re not ours. And,” she turned toward Petras, laying her hand on Edward’s chest, “think of how they might be treated in Amestris.” 

For a second, he thought about it, being hailed as a hero for bring a dragon home. And then he thought again, about how Amestris might be limping toward not being a military state any more, but how someone in charge might think how great dragons could be for war. And what they might do to get the dragons away from Milos. Winry nodded, reading his face and able to tell when he realized her conclusions. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it, you’re right.” Edward blew out through his nose, disappointed, but there really wasn’t anything for it but to accept what Winry said. 

Winry patted his chest, and Edward glanced down at her hand. At her stubby fingers, callused from her work, but still sensitive enough to sew up his wound, and take care of the damage done to Petras’s leg. He thought he could feel her pulse through the hand resting on his chest, even through the thick cloth the Milosians wore to keep the underground chill out of their bones. Soon enough, he’d be leaving her, or she’d be leaving him – he could start his journey in Milos, Winry could go to Rush Valley or back to Risembool, Alphonse could start his trip to the East and Xing. It had been their plans almost since Alphonse and he’d woken up in the hospital after the Promised Day. 

But he could’ve died today, again, and Winry wouldn’t have known how he felt. Edward moved his mouth without making a sound, glancing away from Winry. Her gaze lingered. He could feel it like sunlight on his face, and had to stop himself from trying to rub it away. Staring at Petras didn’t help at all, so he turned back to Winry. His larynx bobbed in his throat as he worked at something to say. “I…thank you for sewing me up.” That wasn’t what he’d wanted to tell her, and mentally, he kicked his own ass for it. 

Winry didn’t seem to mind. “You’re welcome.” Her eyebrows twitched up when he continued to stare. “What?”

“Uh.” Heat climbed up his face. “Uh.” Edward cupped her shoulders. “You are…you are amazing, and I, uh.” Damn it, why was it so hard to get the words out? “You, I…I’m sorry for all the crap I’ve put you through over the years, Winry, and I need you to know, I.” Everything he wanted to say stuck in his throat, leaving him with a flapping jaw. Taking a deep breath, Edward ran his hands over her shoulders, up her neck, and cupped her cheeks. Nervous, he licked his lips, and leaned down to kiss her. 

Their noses bumped. “Ow,” Winry whined. Edward tilted his head to the side and tried again, just a soft press of his mouth against hers. Pulling back enough he could meet her gaze, he tried to read her expression. Was she going to thump him with her hand? She raised it, and Edward tried to keep from flinching and failed. Her hands went around the back of his neck, and Winry pulled him down for another kiss. When she let him go, Edward gulped, any conscious thought gone. “Well.” Winry patted his shoulders. “Come on, we still need to see Mr. Gonzales so I can borrow his tools and fix your leg.” 

“Ah.” Edward blinked a few times, finally remembering yes, his automail still needed to be repaired. “Winry?” She already walked away from him, and he stumbled after, catching up to her and staring down at her. 

“Yes, Ed?” 

“Don’t you uh. Want to talk about.” He caught her shoulder, pulling her to a stop. “What we just did?” His chest heaved like he’d been fighting with Izumi. Relief washed through him when Winry’s cheeks pinked. 

“Um. Do we need to?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

“Because it’s…your leg. I need to fix your leg.” The flush faded, chased away by the stern lines settling onto her face. “It’s making me crazy, Ed!” 

Edward couldn’t stop the stupid, cocky grin spreading across his face. “Are you sure it’s my leg?” 

Winry’s eye twitched. “If you think you can make me crazy, Edward Elric,” she poked him in the chest with a stiffened finger, making him wince, “you’re – you’re – oooh!” Throwing her hands up, she said, “You’re such an idiot. Everything doesn’t revolve around you!” 

“I never said it did!” Edward noticed an audience was building out of the few people still in the aerie and the dragons. Not that he cared, but it certainly proved Winry’s point right now. “Listen, you little grease monkey.” The way she bristled at his words made something deep inside him want to do something really stupid, like kiss her again. “You’re the best automail engineer I know, and, and one of the best people I know.” Edward cupped her shoulders, cautiously, not sure if Winry would throw him off. “And uh. I…thanks.” 

“Thanks?” Gaping up at him, Winry reminded Edward for a second of a fish out of water. Not that he’d tell her. “Thanks, Ed?” 

This wasn’t going the way he’d thought it might. “Yeah?” 

Winry rolled her eyes. As she turned away, his hands fell from her shoulders. “Come on,” she said, “let’s get your leg fixed.” 

Edward mentally cursed at the Milosian clothes keeping him from seeing how Winry’s butt twitched. She always twitched it harder when she was angry. Realizing she was getting away, he followed after. “And then?” he asked, catching up to her again. 

“I don’t know, Ed. Maybe I’ll be too tired to do anything but go to bed.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “Or maybe I’ll show you the right way to kiss a girl.” 

Edward stumbled to a stop. Did she just…she…just. He felt his brain short-circuiting, like when she activated the port-automail connection. “Wait a minute. What’s wrong with my kissing?” Wicked giggles provided his only answer, making Edward swear under his breath. At least there might be some more kissing, after Winry fixed up his leg, but probably not unless he caught up to her. Hitching up his pants, Edward hobbled after Winry. At least this tinkering session might be worth it.

**Western Train Line, Amestris**

Riding on a train was always somewhat disconcerting to Grumman. The rocking of the car, and the way the scenery sped by outside the window, bothered him. He wished he could still use stagecoaches to travel, but those days were so long passed. Everything was rush, rush, rush, hurry, hurry, hurry. Even the Fuhrer’s personal train did little to change his feelings about rail travel. While well-appointed, and lavishly furnished, the car still rocked, and outside the windows, the landscape sped by entirely too quickly. Grumman stared down at the notes in his hands rather than look out the glass. His stomach would complain if he did.

Across from him sat the monumental bulk that was Lieutenant Colonel Alex Louis Armstrong. His arms crossed, Armstrong appeared imposing, but looks could be deceiving. Grumman knew that first-hand – he’d cultivated the air of a somewhat absent-minded, not very intelligent man once he was transferred to Eastern Command, after all. Armstrong’s visage was less a mask, and more just the way the man looked. His sister, now, she was the dangerous one. Grumman rubbed his mustache with his thumb, thinking on Olivier Mille Armstrong. She could get a rise out of the dead, but once it had risen, she’d probably lop it off with her sword and wear it as a charm necklace. Yes, she seemed the type to take trophies. 

Shifting his shoulders, Grumman reminded himself he’d asked Armstrong to accompany him for a reason. “Lieutenant Colonel,” he said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to travel to Border City with me.” 

“To tell you the truth, Fuhrer Grumman, the question had crossed my mind,” Armstrong boomed, though he did tone his voice for the interior of the train car. 

Grumman nodded. “Well, Lieutenant Colonel, I did have my reasons. One of them is because you were the only officer I could trust in Central City with the information provided to me.” 

He could swear the man sparkled at the praise. “Thank you, Fuhrer.” 

“Oh, don’t thank me yet, Lieutenant Colonel. I’m afraid your trust may come with a high price.” Grumman tapped his nose. “You see, I must ask you information about two alchemists you know.” He closed his notebook, setting it aside so he could fold his hands together. “So, please, Lieutenant Colonel, tell me everything you know about the Elric brothers and why they might be in Milos.” 

“Milos?” Armstrong’s brow furrowed. “Are we going to Table City?”

“Actually, we’re going to Border City. The train line from Amestris to Milos was attacked by Cretan airships and the land bridge has been destroyed.”

“Airships? Creta has achieved flight?” His mustache bristled and he leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “How is that possible?”

“Not only has Creta achieved flight, Lieutenant Colonel, but Milos has flying creatures. Dragons. And these creatures seem to be the last chance to keep Creta from invading Amestris. Now, before the train line was destroyed, the Elrics and a companion were approved to enter Milos. In fact, they had a letter from the current Milosian leader, one Julia Crichton.” 

“Crichton,” Armstrong rubbed his chin in thought. His eyes lit up in remembrance. “Julia Crichton was captured as a Milosian activist. The Elric brothers and Brigadier General Mustang went to Milos to track down a renegade alchemist.” 

“Yes, and, while in Milos, a rebellion happened which ended Amestris’s control of Table City.” 

Armstrong clenched his massive fists, nearly rising half-way out of his seat. “Sir, you cannot think the brothers nor Mustang had anything to do with the rebellion!” 

Grumman smiled, not realizing how calculating it might make him look. “I have faith you can convince me why they didn’t, Lieutenant Colonel.”


	10. Whistling in the Dark

Table City, Milos

Morning didn’t seem much different than afternoon under Table City. The few windows did let in more light and, if there was an airway or an opening in the cliff side, the sun might warm the stone there. But within the hill itself, there was little to no difference. Julia knew it was why she had such a hard time sleeping now. When she could see the sun regularly, her body knew the time, and, as the sky darkened, she would get tired, and find herself ready to sleep. Without the circadian rhythm, she didn’t know when she should sleep, and the fact the light remained the same all ‘day’ within the tunnels didn’t help. The Milosians who’d lived underground for so long handled it far better than she, something Julia found herself envying. She knew she’d eventually settle into a rhythm, but until she did, she ran on and on until she finally fell asleep in a heap. 

Take earlier, when she’d nearly fallen asleep in the meeting with her councilors. Ivey had been the one to notice, and insisted she rest, overriding both Santiago and Timbrell, despite the protests of the former. Ivey had drawn herself up and said, “If Lady Julia is exhausted, presuming on her to make intelligent decisions for and regarding Milos is a foolish thing!” Julia wished she’d been able to thank Ivey more, but when she’d left the hall, she’d found herself at odds, and unsure she’d be able to sleep. 

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try, and Julia dragged herself back to her quarters. Unlocking the door, she entered the darkened room, letting out a sigh of relief. Only a small lantern burned, giving her just enough illumination to walk around the room. It was enough for her to see that Winry wasn’t in the big bed, nor did it look like she’d been there for some time. A piece of paper lay on the table, one with a drawing of what Julia guessed was herself, Winry, and Katrina, with Katrina’s name printed in the corner. Smiling, Julia chucked the drawing of Katrina under the chin, but left the page where she’d found it. 

Turning around, she pulled her headband off, tossing it on the tabletop. She loosened the belt tightening her tunic to her waist, laying it over the back of the closest chair. Bending over, Julia pulled the tunic over her head, fluffing her hair. A mirror, the glass old and wavy, showed her a reflection of herself, and she hesitated, turning to look. She studied herself in the glass, sucking in her stomach. Huffing, Julia turned away. She was too thin, she knew it, but others in Milos suffered from hunger, too. There had to be a way to get more food to Milos. They needed so many things here, and Creta had nearly destroyed any arable land, not to mention any way to raise herd animals. Even if they sent shepherds or cowherds farther north along the river, they’d run the risk of Cretan attack, without any real way to protect themselves. The dragons could be set up on a rotating patrol, maybe, but that could leave Table City unprotected. 

So many decisions and Julia so didn’t want to have to make them. It had been enough, posting the additional sentries to keep watch, in case Creta decided to attack in retaliation. She didn’t want to even think on everything else still needing to be done tonight. Today. Whatever it was. Shaking her head, Julia toed off her boots, setting them where she could find them easily. She took off her pants, careful to keep the leg from catching on her automail. She dragged her nightgown out from under her pillow and pulled it on over her head, smoothing it down over her body. 

Getting ready for bed was sometimes the worst time of the day. Her mind still buzzed with all the things she needed to do. This time was no different. Even as she washed her face, combed her hair, and oiled her automail leg, Julia still thought about what she could do to help her people. Her alchemy skills, her governing skills, they just weren’t enough. There had to be more, but she couldn’t think of what else she could do. Turning down the bedcovers, Julia climbed between them, thumping up her pillow. She lay down, curling onto her side and looking at the empty pillow on the opposite side of the bed. 

Where was Winry? Had Alphonse been wrong, and her relationship with Edward moved on to some other level? Julia ignored the little voice inside her wishing someone would see her as something other than the savior of Milos. What would it be like to have someone talk to her the way Edward and Winry talked? She smiled, rolling onto her back. Maybe not the way they talked to each other. It often sounded like arguing. But she’d seen how Edward had been, when she’d taken him to Winry before she’d woken up. Was there anyone who’d be that worried if she was unconscious? 

Well, Gonzales would, but it wasn’t the same. He was old. He’d more or less adopted her when she was a little girl, and her parents died, and Ashley vanished. Creta didn’t have a need for a child except as a mine worker, hauling dirt and rocks out of the caves; sorting through larger stones in search of the Sanguine Star. They’d tossed her into the mines where Gonzales found her and took care of her as best he could. He treated her as if she was his granddaughter. Yes, if she was unconscious, he’d be worried, and probably hold her hand until she woke up. But he wouldn’t look at her the way Edward had looked at Winry. 

Julia sighed, lacing her fingers and resting them on her stomach. It would be nice if Alphonse looked at her that way, she thought. He was a lot cuter than she’d expected, not that she really knew what she expected. When he’d been in Milos before, she’d been attracted by how kind he was, and how dedicated. It didn’t matter he was a soul attached to a suit of armor, Alphonse was amazing. He’d done his best to save her life when he didn’t even know her. He didn’t need to tell her what the Sanguine Star actually was, but he shared that information, too. 

Twiddling her thumbs, Julia considered Alphonse again. He had such a sweet face, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And he included her in his jokes. He made jokes! Most people in Milos were serious, including her. She didn’t even know any jokes. Wasn’t sure if she could come up with a way to make anyone laugh. 

The realization made her blink her eyes hard, squeezing them shut to try to keep the tears back. Milos was a battleground. There wasn’t a lot of time for fun or jokes. And it wasn’t like Alphonse would stay here. He had other things to do with his life, she knew it. It wouldn’t be fair to keep him in Table City, and she couldn’t travel with him, not when Milos needed her. Who knew if Milos would stop needing her. 

A sob broke free. Julia clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to smother the sounds coming out of it, but it wasn’t working. Rolling onto her stomach, she buried her face in her pillow, and let the sorrow come.

**Lower caverns, Creta side of Death Canyon**

Eirene waited for the engineer to open the gate of the elevator car, this time. She stepped out of the car, tapping her hand on her thigh before striding down to the opening of the corridor, where two of her soldiers kept watch. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said. 

“Sir!” The corporals threw salutes to her, and she returned them. 

“I’m sorry you have to stay down here in this chill.” Eirene rubbed her hands on her arms for emphasis.

“It’s nothing, Colonel,” Mitro said, though the soft chatter of her teeth said otherwise. 

“You’ll soon be relieved, and you can get warm up top.” Eirene hooked her thumb over her shoulder toward the elevator shaft. “I’ll make sure the cook has some coffee for you.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Mitro said, a quick smile warming her face. 

“Think nothing of it.” Eirene waved off the thanks. She peered at the opening into Death Canyon. “Have any of our men returned?” It was a wishful question, she knew. She would’ve been immediately notified. 

Mitro shook her head. “No, sir. But it hasn’t even been a full day yet.” Her voice went from being hesitant to determined. “Give them time. You know they’ll make you proud.” 

“Thank you, Mitro, I’m sure they will.” Eirene patted the other woman’s shoulder. “Keep on your toes, men, and watch out for each other.” 

“Yes, sir!” they chorused at the same time the elevator car whined, and Eirene heard the gate clang open. 

“Colonel Zoglakis, sir!” Eirene turned, frowning slightly at the sight of one of her swabbies, puffing as he trotted into view. He halted about ten steps away, throwing her a salute, which she returned. “I have a message, sir.”

“Message?” 

“Orders, sir.” Offering her an envelope, he waited, eyes pointed past her shoulder as she opened it. 

Eirene skimmed the short note, written in block print. Her brows drew down sharply. “Generalissimo Zirimis is here?” He’d arrived early, before she could fully implement her plan. Still, she’d be unable to recall the men already moving into place in Milos. 

“Yes, Colonel.” From his pained expression and twitching shoulders, there was more waiting for her above than Zirimis. 

She folded her arms, the paper crinkling in her hand. “Speak freely, Sergeant Kotas.” 

He swallowed, his voice box bobbing. “Sir, Generalissimo brought chimeras with him.” 

Eirene’s mind raced. Zirimis bringing chimeras meant he wanted the credit for conquering Milos for himself. She smiled grimly. Her men had fought too long and hard for someone else to come in and take the recognition they deserved. “Thank you, Sergeant. Please accompany me back upstairs, and we’ll greet the Generalissimo together.”

**Table City, Milos**

Alphonse jerked, his eyes opening wide. He clawed at his chest. His heart pounded hard enough to break past his ribs. Gasping, he tried to catch his breath, searching the shadows in the dimly-lit room. For a few heartbeats, he didn’t know where he was, then he remembered. Milos, underneath Table City, and Edward wasn’t here in the room with him. Julia had given them these quarters, and, since Winry had been in the medical wing, Alphonse had gotten used to sleeping without Edward snuffling in the next bed over. Still, he wished his brother was here now, so he had someone to talk to, to calm him down again.

Sitting up, Alphonse shivered, rubbing his hands over his arms. The chill of the cave seemed to seep into his bones. It was no wonder the Milosians wore felted wool clothes. Not that he was sleeping in them. They itched too much for that. The thick blanket covering him should’ve been enough to keep him warm. With the nightmare he woke himself from, it didn’t seem warm enough. 

Alphonse couldn’t remember much of the nightmare now, but what he did recall involved questing, sharp-toothed tentacles with slanted, purple eyes. Pride haunted his dreams, more than he liked. He had other nightmares, too, some taking place in Truth’s domain, others, where Edward failed as a child, and bled out in front of him. He wasn’t the only one plagued by bad dreams. He knew Edward had them, too. Shaking his head to dissolve those images, Alphonse climbed out of bed, hissing at the cold stone floor under his bare feet. He found his clothes and dressed quickly, hopping around on one leg to pull the opposite boot on. Staying in this quiet, chilly room wasn’t an option. He needed to get out of there and move around. 

When he opened the door, Alphonse caught a whiff of fresher air. He almost wished he hadn’t – the breeze blew in from Death Canyon, and all the trash dumped there perfumed it. Coughing, Alphonse made his way through the tunnels, not even sure which way he was going. 

Almost automatically, his feet carried him down to the last place he’d seen Edward. The dragons’ aerie hummed with activity, people bustling up and down the corridor in front of the stalls. Alphonse almost wished for the breeze from earlier. It was a little more pleasant than the odors from the dragons’ fewmets. Wrinkling his nose, Alphonse made his way to Petras’s stall and stopped outside it.

The dragon still lay curled in a tight knot, her nose tucked under her haunch. The tip of her rudder tail twitched slightly, as if maybe she pretended to sleep, rather than actually resting. Alphonse knew of a couple of cats like that. Just when he thought they’d be napping, they’d suddenly leap at him, grabbing him around the ankle or by the wrist. He wondered if dragons did something similar. They had to be predator animals, right? So would they use a napping technique to lure prey in close for the attack? The thought made his shoulders twitch. Dragons certainly were large enough to eat a person. How domesticated were they, anyway? 

As if she’d gotten tired of him watching her, Petras opened one eye and stared at him flatly. Alphonse thought about Den, and how she’d watch the chickens in the yard while seeming to sleep. She always knew what was going on in the yard. “Hi,” Alphonse said, wagging his fingers at her. Lifting her head, she opened her other eye, watching him. Not sure if he felt stupid or not, he asked, “Petras, do you know where Ed is?” 

She snorted, stretching her neck and arching her wings away from her body. Rising up, she shook herself, like a dog coming out of water, the sound of her ears and whiskers flapping around her head even sounding similar. Alphonse grinned, but covered his mouth with his fingers to hide it. Petras stretched one wing out, folded it back, then stretched the other. Finally, she sniffed at the bandage on her wounded foreleg. Lipping it a couple of times, she caught hold of it with her teeth and began pulling it free. 

Alphonse ducked under the rope in front of the stall. “Let me help with that.” Petras jerked her head up as he entered the stall, her ears twitching back toward her neck. Alphonse hesitated, his hands coming up. “Easy, Petras, really, I can help.” Her eyes were on level with his, but only because she lowered her head. Intelligence sparkled in her gaze, and Alphonse wondered just how smart she might be. “Do you want me to take the bandage off?” 

Petras exhaled sharply through her nostrils, but held out her foreleg to him. Squatting next to her, Alphonse worked loose the knot Winry had tied in the fabric, and began to unwrap the linen. The bandage needed to be changed anyway, he thought, dropping it to the stall floor. Once he’d completely unwrapped Petras’s foreleg, Alphonse blinked a couple of times. “How?” Maybe he should’ve said ‘wow’. He’d seen Petras’s wound the day before. A nasty cut, Edward had said it came from a Cretan bullet, same as his own wound. Winry had sewn it up, but the ointment she’d spread over the wound before wrapping it couldn’t have been enough to heal it this much. He remembered what Julia had said yesterday. Had the rapid healing really been influenced by the dragons’ humming? 

“You’d be pretty amazing if that’s true,” Alphonse told Petras. She snorted again as he turned his attention back to her foreleg. The wound wasn’t completely healed, and Alphonse wouldn’t recommend removing the stitches yet, but there was a noticeable improvement from the day before. He patted her shoulder. “This should be rewrapped. I’ll go get some bandages and ointment.” 

“That’s okay, Al, we’ve got them.” 

Edward lifted the rope so Winry could enter the stall. She carried a jar and some bandages. She hadn’t had a chance to brush her hair yet, and her clothes carried wrinkles and creases Alphonse hadn’t seen yesterday. Edward’s hair hung loose around his shoulders, and he wore a stupid grin. Alphonse let a knowing smile spread over his face. “Good morning,” he purred. “Did you two have a good night?” 

Winry rolled her eyes, but it didn’t distract Alphonse from noticing the color flooding her cheeks. “Your brother has a gunshot wound, Al.” 

“So he slept like he was drugged, and you watched over him.” Alphonse tsked, shaking his head. 

Patting his yawn, Edward got out a muffled, “We both slept.”

“Is that so?” He grinned again. Edward shot him an obscene Xingese gesture. “Hey, your arm!” At Edward’s confused look, Alphonse pointed to his shoulder. “You’re moving pretty well.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Edward glanced at his shoulder. “It started feeling better last night.” 

Alphonse chuckled. “I bet it did – ow!” He rocked back from Edward’s punch, neatly running into Winry’s shove. “Hey!”

“Be polite, Al,” Winry wagged a finger at him. 

“I’m always polite!” he whined. 

Edward snorted, “Uh huh.” 

“Don’t make me hit you,” Alphonse said, brandishing a fist. 

“Like Winry’d let you,” Edward said, with a huge grin. Pointing two fingers at his face, he went on. “She said my eyes aren’t black any more.” 

“They aren’t,” Winry affirmed, nudging the used bandages on the stall floor with her foot. Petras yawned, and Alphonse could almost swear the dragon smirked. “Did you take these off, Petras?”

“She was going to,” Alphonse said, “but I unwrapped it. I was about to get some fresh bandages.” He nodded at the linens in Winry’s hands. 

Shrugging, Winry squatted next to Petras’s foreleg. “This looks like it’s healing really well!” 

“I said I was feeling better last night.” Edward bent down to look over Winry’s shoulder. “Looks like the humming does do something.” Petras clacked her tongue, and nudged Winry, nearly knocking her back into Edward. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “Easy there!” 

“Hey!” Winry glowered at Petras. The dragon didn’t seem at all apologetic. 

“I see someone’s taking care of Petras already.” Alphonse didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but Edward straightened at the sound of it. 

“Hey, Spaso. Looks like you’re doing okay,” he said in greeting. 

The scarred man slipped under the rope barricade and joined them. Petras raised her head and snuffed at his outstretched hand. “Good morning, Petras.” He addressed Edward next. “Alion and I avoided the worst of it. Not like you two.” His finger moved between Edward and the dragon. 

“And Andrea.” Edward’s mouth turned down. 

“She’s doing better,” Daniel said. He scratched under Petras’s chin, making her slit her eyes. “Helios will make sure she heals.” 

Winry elbowed Edward and he grunted, then realization set in. “Sorry. This is my brother, Alphonse, and our friend, Winry Rockbell. She’s the one who sewed up Petras yesterday. Al, Winry, this is Daniel Spaso. He’s one of the head wingmen of Milos.” 

Alphonse smiled and offered his hand. “Good to meet you, Mr. Spaso.”

“Daniel is fine.” He shook Alphonse’s hand, then Winry’s. “You’re a doctor?” 

Petras nudged her head under Winry’s arm, and she rubbed Petras’s ears. “No, sir, not a doctor. I’m an automail engineer. But I’ve had some medical training!” 

“Some medical training,” Alphonse muttered. 

“She’s an automail engineer who’s trained with a surgeon,” Edward said, proudly. 

Winry smiled weakly. “Aha ha. I’m better at automail!” 

“Your work seems good to me.” Daniel indicated Petras’s stitches with his chin. “Mind if I take a closer look?” 

“Oh, no, not at all!” Winry stepped back, onto Edward’s foot, making him shift out of the way with a grumble. Alphonse hid his grin, but not fast enough. Edward glared at him. 

Daniel ran his thumb lightly alongside the stitched incision. “You’ve got a neat hand, Miss Rockbell.” He nodded up at her. “Good work.” 

She smiled again, more natural this time. “Thank you, sir.” 

Daniel plucked the ointment from her lax hands and opened the jar, smearing some of the contents on Petra’s wound. “You need to stay off this leg,” he said. “Which means we’re not taking you back upstairs to your stall. I’m sure you’ll scare off any of the dragons who try to court you.” 

Petras snorted a couple of times, turning her head away from Daniel and staring at the wall, the tip of her tail tapping rapidly on the stall floor. She reminded Alphonse of Winry, when Edward pissed her off. Only with less yelling. 

“If you’re better tomorrow, I’ll consider moving you. I know this isn’t your stall, but it’s a good one.” Daniel accepted the bandage when Winry handed it to him, and began wrapping the wounded leg. “And you’ll be fed, and cared for here.” Petras grumbled deep in her throat, nudging at Daniel’s shoulder. “Yes, I know you haven’t been fed yet. I’ll make sure someone comes to feed you, but you need to rest.” 

“Um, Mr. Spaso? Just how smart are dragons?” Winry asked.

Finally, someone asked the question. Alphonse leaned a little closer to hear the answer.

“At least as smart as a dog and probably smarter.” Daniel scratched the space between Petras’s eyes, making her croon. “They’re easy to train, if you start it early enough.” Getting to his feet, he rubbed his thigh absently, as if some chronic ache lodged there. “We generally start training within two days of birth. Dragons can survive without their mothers, if another draga adopts them, but they still need to learn how to _be_ dragons. If the mother won’t accept them, another draga will raise them until they can survive on their own.” He smiled at Petras. “She’s done her fair share of helping to raise babies, and train human riders. I knew she’d take care of you.” He raised his eyebrows at Edward.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “She did. All I could do was hang on.” 

“So, how do you train them?” Alphonse began rubbing Petras’s shoulder. She rumbled her approval, and he could feel the vibration through his arm. 

“It’s a long process.” Daniel eyed them, as if questioning how much they really wanted to know. Edward scratched his nose. Alphonse hoped he looked interested. Winry studied Edward’s leg instead. He wanted to nudge her, get her attention back on something other than automail. 

“Maybe we can feed Petras, and you can tell us over breakfast,” Alphonse said. 

He considered it and nodded. “All right. Why don’t you come with me, Edward? We’ll get Petras’s food.” 

“Me?” Edward gaped for a second before recovering. “Sure!” 

“Feeding dragons is important. Despite Petras getting in a kill yesterday, she’ll need to eat something today. They don’t need a lot of food for about two days after making a kill, unless you’re feeding a pregnant draga. They need to eat more. And the fledglings need to eat regularly, twice a day. If their mother is hunting, she’ll share some of her kill with her fledglings.” Daniel’s voice faded as he and Edward left Petras’s stall. 

Petras snorted, curling up again, though she beat her tail lightly against Winry’s shins. “Hey,” Winry scowled at her. Petras made a sound like a chuckle, and Winry’s frown deepened. “I think you’re very smart. Smart enough to tease, at least.” 

Petras blinked at her, her tail flipping. Alphonse knew she had to be smirking. Blowing her whiskers, Petras tucked her muzzle under her haunch and began humming again. 

Winry rolled her eyes. “Fine, pretend like you’re sleeping. You’ll just wake up when Ed brings you your food!” 

“Speaking of Brother,” Alphonse said, holding up a finger. 

The glower turned his way. “What about it, Al?”

He grinned. “Ed didn’t come home last night. Was he with you?” Folding her arms, Winry challenged him without words, daring him to say something else. “I guess that’s my answer.” 

“We spent part of the night at Mr. Gonzales’s. After I fixed Ed’s leg, we came back here. Didn’t you notice his automail wasn’t making that sound any more?”

He had realized it, in some way, but it wasn’t as important to him as it was to Winry. “My brother’s an idiot, so I doubt you did anything really fun.” Alphonse rubbed his chin. “Has he even kissed you?”

“Al!” Winry jammed her hands on her hips. “I’m not answering that question!”

Shock made Alphonse grab hold of Petras’s withers to keep his balance. “He kissed you? Really?” Winry didn’t relax her stance. If it was anyone else, Alphonse would’ve been adjusting his weight for a possible attack. Petras provided a barricade between them, but that didn’t mean Winry wouldn’t punch him over the dragon’s back. “Really, Winry?” he prodded. 

She turned her face away, then back, pointing at him. “What about you and Julia?” 

Winry’s clever, inquisitive purr almost made Alphonse recoil. “What about us?” he asked, fighting to control his voice and keep it from squeaking.

“Has she kissed you yet?” 

“It’s none of your business!” 

“Really, Al, really?” 

“Hey, we’ve got breakfast,” Edward called. Alphonse thought he’d never quite been so thankful to see his brother before, but a glance sideways at Winry let him know this wasn’t over by a long shot. 

Damn it.


	11. Of Sea Dark Mornings

**Belbar, a train stop on the way to Border City, Amestris**

The whistle stop was in a small town, with a few twinkling lights to emphasize how grey and misty the morning was. His hat still on the bench seat of the train car, Alex Louis wished he’d put it on before disembarking onto the platform. President Fuhrer Grumman walked ahead of him, his hands behind his back, strolling toward the stationmaster’s office. He hadn’t given Alex Louis any orders one way or another, but he followed the Fuhrer, anyway. Stretching his legs only made good sense, as he considered his body not only a superb specimen, but also his weapon. If he needed his alchemy, or other skills, a leg cramp could be debilitating. And, as he considered himself a guard for the Fuhrer on this trip, he had to take care of himself, as well. 

Alex Louis paused on the platform as the Fuhrer rapped on the door to the office. The door opened in a slice of light, a grey-haired woman peering through. “Yes?” she asked, her query harsh. 

“Good evening, madam,” Fuhrer Grumman said, and Alex Louis could hear the smile in his voice. “I was wondering if I might borrow your telephone? I need to make a call to Pendleton.” 

The woman folded her arms, providing a barricade into the warmth of the office. “And why should I? There’s a public telephone box, two blocks that way.” She jerked her chin in indication. 

Grumman spread his hands. “Well, my dear lady, I appreciate that information, but I’m an old man, and walking that far in the cold and damp could bring up my rheumatiz.” When that didn’t seem to sway her, he added, “I can provide money to pay for the call.” 

She frowned at him, looking past him to Alex Louis. Though he made no motion, either for or against the Fuhrer using the telephone, the woman pushed the door farther open. “I’m sorry,” she said, “please come in, both of you, and get out of the damp.” 

“Thank you!” Grumman entered the room, sighing as the heat hit him. He rubbed his hands together as Alex Louis ducked his head to get through the doorway. “Which way to the telephone, my dear?” 

She beckoned Grumman to a low wall, with a window beyond it. “This will give you a little privacy, sir.” Leaving him to it, she sized up Alex Louis. “Would you like a cup of tea, young man?” 

“Thank you, ma’am, but I am fine.” 

She nodded somewhat, and went back to the desk where she presumably had been working before the Fuhrer knocked on the door. “Make yourself comfortable, then, Lieutenant Colonel.” 

He returned her nod, waiting at parade rest for the Fuhrer to finish his call. It was impossible to not to overhear as Grumman said, “Hello! Yes, I need to be connected to Brigadier General Denardo, in Pendleton. Yes, thank you, I’ll hold.”

The woman hissed through her teeth, and, when Alex Louis glanced her way, she motioned him over with a tilt of her head. “Who is that man, Lieutenant Colonel?” 

He didn’t hesitate. “Fuhrer President Grumman, ma’am.” 

Her eyes popped and her mouth made an ‘o’. “I’m glad I invited him in, then.” 

There was nothing Alex Louis could actually say to that, other than, “Ma’am.” 

“Brigadier General Denardo, please,” Grumman said. “Me? Oh, I’m Fuhrer Grumman. Do connect us, there’s a good lad.” He hummed cheerfully while waiting. “Ah, Denardo! Grumman here. I have some intel which makes me think you need to send some troops down to Border City. How many? Oh, I’m not sure, a couple of hundred would probably be good. And don’t skimp on the weapons, Denardo! Creta seems to be planning something in Milos which could be bad for Amestris.” He paused. “Hmm? How do I know? Well, Creta blew up the train line from Amestris to Milos, that’s how. If you have any further questions, feel free to contact Lieutenant General Sterling for her confirmation. I’ll see you and your men in Border City soon.” Grumman replaced the receiver in its cradle with a ‘click’ and got to his feet. “Lieutenant Colonel? Are you ready?” 

“Yes, sir,” Alex Louis said, and followed Grumman back to the train, once he’d thanked the woman for use of her telephone and gave her some cenz, over her protests. “Sir, do you really believe Creta will attack?”

“Of course I do, Lieutenant Colonel. Why would they be building airships if they weren’t planning on using them to attack Amestris? As far as Creta is concerned, Milos is probably a testing ground. And if Milos falls, well, we’re stronger than Milos, but airships.” He tsked, climbing aboard the train. “Those are something we’ve never waged war with before. I want enough troops to be able to make a difference against those.” 

“I understand, sir,” Alex Louis said, climbing the steps up onto the train. As Grumman settled onto his seat, Alex Louis took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. “Sir, about the Elric brothers.” 

“Oh, yes?” Grumman peered at him over his glasses rims. 

“Those two young men are heroes to Amestris. They are not traitors.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel, you’ve said.” Removing his glasses, Grumman began polishing the lenses on a handkerchief. “And I will consider the information you’ve given me when I speak to the Elrics and their companion. But I also must consider Amestris, and how to protect the people and the country.” He fixed Alex Louis with steely eyes. “Am I understood?”

Alex Louis knew Grumman had to consider all possibilities to maintain Amestris’s security. His personal knowledge of the Elrics might offer information, but only his point of view regarding the brothers. Until the Fuhrer had a chance to meet them, everything about the Elrics had to be filtered through how their actions might affect Amestris. “Yes, Fuhrer,” he said, reluctant to agree, but understanding.

**Table City, Milos**

He couldn’t see the sky. 

Dmitri rolled his eyes at the dull yellow-red rock over his head, making up the walls and the floor beneath his feet. He couldn’t see the sky. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss it. The yearning for fresh, clean air, for rich blue, even for storm clouds, built into an ache, throbbing like a bad tooth, but so much worse. Milosians, they were worms, they lived in the dark. They deserved the dark. But he was built of other stuff, lighter stuff, born to sail amongst the clouds and reside like the gods of old on Mount Polos. The Milosians didn’t deserve the beasts that carried them up into his world. 

Dragons. Dmitri clenched his hands into fists, his forearms trembling. The dragons had done so much to destroy the airships and the bi-wings. If the Milosians didn’t have the dragons, they would no longer be able to fight off Creta’s advances. Yes, they had managed to surprise Creta once before, and overthrow Creta’s rule, but it had more to do with the attempt to tap the lava under Mount Polos than anything. If Commander Atlas’s plans had worked, Milos would still be under Creta’s rule, and providing so much more than the trouble they currently caused. 

Soon, though, Milos would be brought to its knees. Dmitri smiled at a young woman walking by, nodding at her politely. She blushed and smiled back, tittering behind her hand as he passed her. Dmitri’s smile vanished. She was nothing but a blight, a slave to work these mines again. Barely worth the rocky floor he walked on. 

He’d prove his worth to Colonel Zoglakis, show her his initiative. She’d asked him to destroy the dragons with poison, but it was a chancy thing. Dmitri had accepted the poison, thinking it wouldn’t be enough; it couldn’t be enough. Maybe to make a few of the beasts sick, but not enough to destroy them. But explosives, they would obliterate the caves, smash the dragons under tons of rock. 

That would be the way to take care of the dragons, and bring Milos to its knees again. 

X X X

“We need to find a way to repair the land bridge.” Councilor Santiago stood with Julia at train station. The girl seemed distracted, far more than usual. He wondered if it had anything to do with the Amestrians. One of them had been shot yesterday flying on a dragon, though, from what he understood, no permanent damage had been done. Nothing that a few nights in the dragons’ aerie couldn’t cure, at least. If the Amestrian had been killed by the Cretans, it might’ve been better for Milos; give the Amestrians on the east side of Death Canyon a reason to ramp up their battle with Creta. But without transport to the west side of the canyon; or even to Milos, it would take far too long for Amestris to launch an attack. And if Amestris marched across Death Canyon to reach Creta, they’d be destroyed long before they reached the western walls. 

“Yes,” Julia said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I could use alchemy to do it.” 

He brushed at his tunic. The idea of this slip of a girl using alchemy, something Milosians had banned when her parents were alive, made his skin crawl. Even though he knew her abilities had saved Milos, and had helped turn the tide and allowed them to retake Table City from both Amestris and Creta, the sheer notion of her practicing alchemy gave him cold chills. Councilors Ivey and Timbrell felt the same way, he knew, but none of them could actually gainsay Lady Julia about her alchemy use. Not after she’d been hailed as a savior for everything she had done. Each step she took in their presence reminded them with the soft clank of her automail of everything she had sacrificed to protect Milos. “Do you have the strength to do so?” He didn’t understand what was behind alchemy, though his own son was already pleading to learn some of the more basic tenants, offering up the thought that Milos needed alchemists, and he wanted to become one to help maintain Milos for the Milosians. 

“I can ask the Elric brothers to help me. Their alchemy is renowned.” Julia rubbed her chin, her frown letting Santiago know, wherever she’d been before in her mind, she’d returned to the present. “The last time I saw them was in the aerie. I’m not sure they’d still be there, but we can send for them.” She glanced around, waving at a one of the children collecting some scraps they could use down below. “Karina! Come here.” When the little girl was close enough, Julia put her hands on her shoulders. “You know what the Elric brothers look like?”

Karina tucked her finger against her lips. “The strangers?” she asked around the digit. 

“Mm! Do you know them?”

“One of them,” Karina admitted. “And Miss Winry.” 

Julia smiled. “Can you tell them to come up here? All of them?” 

Karina nodded, so very solemn. 

“Be quick, then!” Julia turned her around and patted her shoulders to get her to move. Karina raced to a hole only the children ever seemed to know about, and disappeared into it. Santiago wondered if he could get the kids to map their hidden paths, then thought better of the idea. No child would provide all the information necessary to map the paths. They would want to keep their secrets, and it wasn’t a bad idea. “Councilor Santiago, I’ve been thinking. I spoke with Flightleader Spaso yesterday.”

“Yes?”

Her frown reappeared, furrowing her brow deeply. “This is the first time the dragons were in flight before Creta’s airships. Every other time, the dragons flew out after Creta attacked Milos. The Flightleader said they have new machines with wings. The dragons attacked as they’ve been trained to, and destroyed the winged machines.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a problem, Lady Julia.” 

Facing him, Julia said, “We attacked Creta. Do you believe they won’t retaliate, in the worst way possible?” 

Santiago inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. “No, my Lady, I had not even considered that.” 

Julia nodded, folding her arms and facing west, as if she could see through the train station and the remaining buildings Creta’s bombing left upright. “I have been trying to think of anything else, Councilor, but I can’t. I think Creta will attack us with everything they have, and we have no real way to prepare for it, except by rebuilding the train tracks.” 

She didn’t need to tell him they might need the train to escape Milos.

**Thessalia, Creta**

Eirene hesitated long enough to rake her hair back with her fingers, tucking the stray, curly lengths behind her ears. She resettled her hat, taking a deep breath. “Sergeant, you’re dismissed,” she said, and strode out onto the hangar platform. 

Generalissimo Zirimis stood with his legs apart and arms folded, his hat tilted at a rakish angle. Even in profile, Eirene could see his thick, grey mustache, and, while his hair was clipped close to his head, he had a pair of thin sideburns, each shaved into a sharp point and reminiscent of stiletto knives. Despite just arriving in Thessalia, Zirimis’s uniform bore blade-sharp creases, and appeared as fresh as if the man had just donned it a few minutes prior. Eirene tugged the jacket of her uniform down as she marched up to Zirimis. She snapped off a salute to him as he turned her way. “Generalissimo Zirimis, sir.” 

“Ah, Colonel Zoglakis.” He returned her salute. “I am admiring the work of your men.” He nodded at the airships and the bi-wings. 

Eirene noted the way the engineers and navvies scurried around, obviously making ready for lift off. “They’ve worked long and hard, sir. They deserve to be rewarded for their skills.” 

“I agree.” Zirimis’s attention returned to the hangar floor. “Tell me about the little ships. Bi-wings, is it?” 

“Yes, sir. Mr. Lamonan designed them. He is still making adjustments to them, so they can be used in battle, as weapons in their own right, rather than just for intelligence gathering. As they are, they are easily destroyed. Lamonan is drafting larger bi-wings, which can carry greater weaponry. Currently, the pilots only carry machine guns, and cannot reload when they run out of bullets.”

Zirimis nodded distantly. “I’m glad you informed me of your attack plan, Colonel. I feel, with the extra troops and weapons I’m providing, we should be able to retake Milos.” His mustache twitched in what Eirene thought was a smile. “Your men are readying for battle. I’ve brought you beasts and men and arms. Will you fight with me?”

She had no choice. “Yes, sir!” 

“Excellent. Send your bi-wings out, so they can scout the area. My beasts will follow them. When the dragons rise,” he lifted his hand, “they will attack, and tear them out of the sky.” Zirimis clenched his hand, jerking it back down, like an eagle’s claw hauling something from the air. 

Realization came, and Eirene said, “You’re sacrificing the pilots of the bi-wings as bait. Are they baiting your beasts or the dragons?” 

Zirimis shrugged. “Does it matter, if we take Milos back?” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, “Pick up your tempo, men! Be ready to launch in ten minutes!” 

“Yes, sir!” the ground crews and navvies shouted in response, speeding up. The pilots ran in with their maps and coordinates, even though they were going to Milos, the same route they’d taken so many times. The tower crew shouted down air speed and direction, so the pilots could take that into consideration. 

“Generalissimo, permission to speak freely,” Eirene said, trying to keep from gritting her teeth. 

“As long as you’re not going to try to talk me out of this, when it’s your plan.” Zirimis’s teeth sparkled, reminding Eirene of a predatory chimera. 

“No, sir. I did want you to know, I’ve sent operatives into Milos, in an attempt to sabotage them.” 

“Ah? And what are their objectives?”

“To destroy the dragons of Milos, as well as the Milosian armory. I was supposed to give them two days to accomplish this. They’ve had no time to get set up.” Eirene unclenched her hands. She’d kept her voice level, not loud enough to carry. She didn’t want her men to catch her anger. They needed to remain focused, if any of them were to survive this battle, set up too early, and without her approval. 

“My chimeras are ready to fly now, Colonel. The longer we wait, the more likely it is Milos will find out they’re here. They may already know.” He gestured toward the back of the hangar. Eirene followed his wave automatically, wishing she could see what he’d brought with him. They were hidden by the wall, invisible to her sight. What could the alchemists have devised to go against dragons? Zirimis’s voice caught her attention. “They’re already waiting, and believe me when I say, Colonel, they are _hungry._ ” He clicked his teeth together in emphasis, making Eirene wonder if he was imagining a chimera eating a dragon’s heart. 

“Will they recognize our men as separate from Milosians, or will the attack indiscriminately?” 

“That’s a good question.” Zirimis shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.” He offered Eirene his arm. “Would you like to accompany me to the tower, Colonel, so we can watch the fireworks?” 

She could do nothing but take his arm, and say, “Yes, sir.” 

Zirimis led her to the ladder that rose to the command tower. When he handed her to the rungs, Eirene hid her surprise. She thought the generalissimo would climb up first. If she had been the superior officer, she would – Eirene reconsidered, thinking the idea of standing orders for anyone not on the tower crew, besides her, to be shot or otherwise detained, unless the crew was otherwise ordered or notified by a code, might be sound thinking. Something to consider as an implementation, if they made it past this day. 

“Colonel on deck!” an ensign shouted, and the staff rose to attention. They would’ve seen Zirimis’s arrival. She wished she’d been in the tower for that. 

“I have a guest with me, crew,” she said. “Generalissimo Zirimis is accompanying me.” 

He climbed up through the trap door, closing it with his foot. “Good morning,” he said. “Thank you for having me here.” 

“Good morning, sir!” the crew roared, their voices too loud for the small room of the tower control. Eirene pretended not to notice Zirmisis’s twitching mustache. 

“Does this have a microphone, so I might address the troops?” he asked, gesturing toward the radio board. 

“Yes, sir,” Michel said, stepping to her post. She clicked a couple of levers, and picked up the microphone, passing it to Zirimis. “Hold down this lever,” she pointed at it, “and your message will go over the loudspeakers.” 

“Thank you, Ensign.” He accepted the microphone, clamping the lever down. “Good morning,” he said, and a sharp whistle blared over his words. “Oh.” 

“Ah, sir, you’re too close – ah, hold the mic a little farther away,” Michel said, making abortive grabs with her hands, as if she wanted to take the microphone away. Eirene compressed her lips to keep from smiling. 

“Like this?” Zirimis moved the microphone back from his mouth, and Michel smiled, nodding. She entwined her fingers together, holding them close to her chest. “Good morning, everyone,” he said, and his voice reverberated around the hangar. “This is Generalissimo Zirimis. I am taking command of this operation, as you should all know by now. We are going to attack Milos. The bi - ” he lifted his eyebrows in Eirene’s direction. 

She mouthed, ‘Bi-wings,’ at him, and he nodded. 

“The airships will launch first, then the bi-wings, followed by the chimeras. In addition, ground troops will ready for an attack on the canyon level, and my alchemists will attempt to rebuild the land bridge from Creta to Milos, leading a wave of troops across. We shall retake Milos!” 

The cry of “Yes, sir!” rose from the hangar floor. 

Zirimis smiled, his teeth bright and predatory, making Eirene wonder how many of her men would survive this day. “Launch the bi-wings!” he shouted into the microphone, and his words reverberated within the confines of the hangar. With a roar, the men did, sending them up into the blue sky. The bi-wings needed to build up speed to leave the ground, unlike the airships. Their engines popped and roared and the propeller blades sliced through the air, the noise even louder than the engines. Eight of them rolled down the runway and launched into the air. Eirene frowned after the delicate ships. The sounds of their engines faded almost immediately, as the pilots corrected for the wind, pointing their noses to the east and Milos. Zirimis sighed, his face softening as he watched the bi-wings sailing through the sky. “I wish I had seen these beauties earlier,” he said. “Your engineer is to be commended.” 

“Thank you, Generalissimo,” Eirene said. “I will be sure to give Mr. Lamonan your commendations.” 

Zirimis licked his lips, saliva leaving them slick. Eirene averted her eyes, unable to view the expression on his face without a cold chill building in her stomach. Zirimis didn’t care about her men, nor whether they flew to their deaths. She thought the destruction appealed to him more than the idea of a battle. Toggling the switch on the microphone, Zirimis shouted, “Launch the airships!” 

The swabbies released the ropes on the airships, sending them up into the air. The envelopes faded from view, leaving only the gondolas to easy sight. Zirimis let out a low whistle of approval. “So quiet,” he said. “What do they carry?”

“A crew of four, with a round of fifty bombs apiece, as well as three rapid-fire guns as ordinance.” 

“Could the ship’s size be increased, I wonder?” Zirimis tapped his chin, not seeming to expect an answer. As if remembering she was in the tower with him, he glanced at Eirene. “Have you seen my beasts, Colonel?” 

Another rhetorical question. “No, sir, I haven’t had time.” 

He beckoned her to the north side of the window, and pointed down. “Aren’t they beautiful?” 

From the awe in Zirimis’s voice, Eirene thought the chimera would at least be as graceful as the dragons. Instead, the creatures reminded her more of bulls, the ones bred for fighting and entertainment. The front half of the chimeras had the same sort of heft and weight those bulls did. In relationship to their bodies, their heads seemed small, and were shaped similar to a triangle. Spiraling horns jutted out from their skulls, like an antelope’s, and pointed forward. One of the chimera bellowed and tossed its head. Its horn caught the handler under the arm, spearing him. The handler screamed as he slid down the horn, blood staining the horn in scarlet. The chimera squalled, shaking its head. It threw the handler almost into the base of the tower, leaving the man in a crumpled heap. Flapping its huge wings, it rose off the ground. It flew ponderously, like a nightmare. Thick legs paddled the air, as if it swam in a liquid. The other chimera shouted protests at being left behind, fighting their handlers. 

The handlers loosed fifteen of the chimera into the sky. Next to Eirene, Zirimis crooned his delight. “These chimera represent some of our alchemists’ finest work,” he said. “And we will be able to watch them destroy Milos’s dragons.” Walking around the tower floor, he kept the chimeras in his line of vision as long as he could. “It will be glorious.” 

Not the word Eirene would use, especially since the chimeras focused on the bi-wings, chasing after them like dogs after a rabbit. Would the beasts turn their attention to the dragons, or were they too stupid to leave the bi-wings alone, once the dragons took to the air? Surely, if the dragons attacked the chimeras, they’d fight, too, and maybe her men could get out of the resultant battle alive. Reaching for her field glasses, Eirene tracked the pace of the airships. They were already halfway across the canyon. Eirene tightened her grip on the glasses. Zirimis’s battle could start any minute, and there was nothing she could do to help her men.


	12. A War of Dragons

**Table City, Milos**

The sunlight nearly blinded Winry as she walked through the train station and out into the morning sun shining over Table City. Her eyes teared up from the light. Stretching her hand out in front of her, she smacked an arm. 

“Damn it, Winry!”

“Sorry, Ed. I can’t see anything.” Cupping her hands around her eyes, Winry blinked rapidly, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the sun’s brilliance. When she could finally see enough to move without crashing into anything, she started following Karina. 

“Hey, wait up!” Alphonse whined, catching hold of her belt. “I’m blind.” 

“Wuss,” Edward said, almost under his breath. Winry noticed he’d shaded his eyes, too, and squinted beneath his hand. Catching her look, he wrinkled his nose at her. She snorted in return. 

“This way,” Karina said, all but dancing in place in her eagerness to lead them to Julia. 

“Come on, Al,” Winry said, pulling him along behind her. Edward kept pace next to her, lowering his hand, though he still squinted. Winry did, too, but by the time they reached Julia, and some man dressed in a kind of a robe Winry didn’t recognize, her eyes had adjusted as much as she figured they would for the time being. 

“I hope you had a chance to eat breakfast,” Julia said as a greeting. 

Alphonse let go of Winry’s belt. “Good morning. Daniel took us.”

“After he checked out Petras. He approved of Winry’s stitches. She sewed her up, and me, too.” Edward gave her a warm, but fleeting smile. “He didn’t look at my shoulder, though.” He rotated it, showing the ease of movement. 

Julia smiled at Alphonse first, turning to include Edward and Winry in her greeting. “I’m sorry, that was rude, wasn’t it? I’m glad you’re feeling better, Edward, and you, too, Winry.” Dark circles marred Julia’s eyes, and her skin had a papery texture to it Winry recognized as being caused by lack of sleep. “This is my councilor, Leon Santiago. Councilor Santiago, these are Edward and Alphonse Elric, and their friend, Winry Rockbell.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Winry said, bobbing her head.

Edward ran his hands down the length of the Milosian tunic, seeming lost without pockets to shove his hands in. “Hey.” 

Alphonse shot Edward a glare, but smiled at the councilor. “Good morning, Councilor Santiago.”

“Hello,” he said, “it’s nice to meet you, too.” The expression on his face didn’t quite match his words. 

Julia didn’t notice, or if she did, didn’t comment on it. “We were talking about repairing the train line.” She waved toward the rails. “I wondered – I hoped – you’d be able to help me.” 

“Transmute the land bridge?” Edward let out a low whistle. “That’d take a lot of energy.” 

“And a lot of time,” Alphonse agreed, looking down into the valley below. Winry followed his gaze, seeing rubble from the land bridge down on the canyon floor. The new rock gleamed against the thick muck of the valley floor, where it had sunk upon landing. “And more than two of us.” 

“Three,” Julia said, “I’m an alchemist, too, remember?” 

Edward said, “I’m not any more.” Winry wanted to reach out to him, squeeze his arm, let him know it was okay. That what he’d done to get Alphonse’s body back was amazing. She fisted her hands, pressing them against her thighs. Edward shrugged at Julia’s gasp. “Al still is. He’s good, too. But even if I was an alchemist, three of us couldn’t fix that bridge. It’d need a lot of alchemists, working together to rebuild it.” He raised his eyebrows at Julia. “How many alchemists do you have here?”

“Just me.” Julia didn’t quite glance at Councilor Santiago. 

Alphonse scrubbed his hand over his hair. “Maybe some Amestrian alchemists can help.” He glanced to the east. “Can we get a message over there?”

“Unfortunately not. The radio towers were knocked out in a recent raid,” Councilor Santiago said. “We haven’t had a chance to repair them. Creta’s been hammering us with their airships.” Rage flashed across his face before he schooled it away. “We have had no contact with anyone outside of Milos since Creta attacked the train line.” 

Wind whistled around them, toying with Winry’s hair. Strands lashed her cheek as she realized what the councilor’s words meant. “Granny doesn’t know we’re alive?” Her legs gave way, nearly dropping her to the ground. 

“Hey, whoa!” Edward leaped to her side, wrapping his arm around her. “It’ll be okay, Winry. The old hag knows we’re too tough to kill.” 

Black dots danced in front of her eyes, and Winry bent over, breathing through her mouth to keep from vomiting. Granny needed to know they were okay. With a moan, Winry fell the rest of the way, her knees cracking against the ground. Edward squatted next to her, pulling her against his chest. “She knows, Winry,” he whispered in her ear, a chant she could hear even over the roaring in her head. “Granny knows we’re fine, because if we died, she’d find me and kick my ass anyway for letting anything happen to you.” 

“Maybe you could send one of the dragons over with a message,” Alphonse said, and Winry thought he sounded so far away. “Let them know we’re all safe, and get a message to Risembool.”

Edward patted the crown of her head. “And ask for alchemists to help repair the bridge,” he said. 

Winry pulled a little way out of Edward’s embrace. “Please,” she said, looking between Julia and the councilor. 

Julia nodded once, decisively. “We can send someone over, Winry. With a white flag, to make sure they know we’re not attacking.” From the tilt of her head, Winry knew Julia said it to console the councilor, though she wasn’t sure why. Milos and Amestris weren’t warring with each other. Maybe the idea of a dragon landing on the Amestrian side of the canyon might be taken for an attack, but Winry hoped not. What could one dragon do against a bunch of soldiers with rifles, anyway? “I’ll start composing a letter now. Councilor, would you like to accompany me? Alphonse?” 

“Yes, of course,” the councilor said, though he bridled, shooting a sidelong look at Alphonse. 

“I know most of the State Alchemists by name,” Alphonse said. The stiff, polite way he spoke let Winry know he knew he should be offended by the councilor’s response. “And can write to Granny, too.” He nodded at Winry. “It’ll be okay, Winry.” 

“Yeah, tell the old bat ‘hi’ for me,” Edward grumbled, and Winry couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s better,” he told her, loosening his hold so she could move farther away if she wanted. Winry decided to stay where she was for a few seconds more, still unable to get to her feet. Her legs still didn’t have any feeling in them. Edward sighed, leaning his chin against her head. “Granny’s gonna yell at me,” he said. “Every time you go anywhere with me, you disappear, and make her worry.”

“Hmph. She’s not going to believe you this time. Airships and dragons?” Winry marveled at the way her voice didn’t quaver. 

“Maybe that Spaso guy will fly us home, then she can see the dragons in person.” 

Winry wriggled and Edward loosened his hold on her. “You and Al could stay here, and learn a lot.” Aware of his hands cupping her elbows, she said, testing, “I think Petras likes you.” 

“Gah, just what I need, a dragon liking me.” Edward’s face lit up, at war with his words. “Bad enough some machine junky likes me.” 

“What?” Leaning farther back, Winry scowled at him. “Who said I liked you?”

Edward snapped, “You did, when you kissed me!” 

“You kissed me back!” 

“Yeah? Well you.” Something caught his eye, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. Shading his eyes again, Edward squinted at something above and behind her. “The hell is that?” 

Twisting around, Winry got to her knees. She tilted her head back, gulping at what she saw. “Airships! We need to get back underground!” Scrambling to her feet, she grabbed Edward’s arm, tugging to start him moving. 

“Airships and…what the hell are those things?” He let her lead him, stumbling. 

Glancing overhead, Winry spotted what held Edward’s attention. The dark silhouettes on the sky, flying among the airships, didn’t look anything like the dragons, except for the way the wings flapped. The shape reminded her more of a leech, with a huge forefront and a narrow end. “Ed, we have to get underground!” she shouted at him, trying to break into his concentration. She shook his arm for good measure. 

“Yeah,” he blinked, as if remembering she was next to him. “Yeah!” Grabbing her hand, he started running, and Winry raced to keep up with him. They reached one of the entrances to the caverns below and charged down it as sirens began to wail, announcing the imminent attack on Table City. “What were those things?” 

Winry panted, “Colonel Mustang, he said Creta was known for its chimeras.” 

There wasn’t time to wonder how – why – the bastard had told Winry that. “Damn it! They transmuted winged chimeras to fight the dragons.” Edward bared his teeth. “We’ve got to get to the aeries and warn them!” 

Winry yanked Edward to a stop, pointing at a child running through the corridor. “Hey!” she called, and he hesitated, staring at her with wide eyes. “We have to get to the aeries, as fast as we can. Do you know Karina?”

He stuck his lower lip out. “My sister.” 

“So you’re…Marcus?” Winry held up her finger. “Karina told me about the tunnels. Your tunnels. We need them!”

Marcus drew back. “Why?”

“Because we have to save the dragons, Marcus.” Pointing up, Winry said, “There are monsters out there, made to fight the dragons. If you want to help us save them, we need to get to the aeries, now!” 

Scrunching up his face, Marcus asked, “Really monsters?” 

“Really,” Edward said, nodding. “Can you help us?”

Marcus waved at them to follow him, and took off running. 

“What tunnels, Winry?” Edward asked as they chased the boy. 

“Kids always know the shortcuts,” Winry grinned back, as the boy stopped, pointing at a hole in the wall.

“Follow me. It’s slick!” he added. He sat down on his butt, stuck his feet in the hole, and pushed off. 

They stopped next to the hole, Edward scowling. Winry dropped to the floor. The hole widened up a bit on the inside, but the rock had been worn smooth. It reminded her of the ice in Briggs, and how she’d fought to stand. Giving Edward a quick grin, Winry swung her legs in. “Good thing you never got all that tall,” she told him. “You probably wouldn’t fit!” She pushed off before he could answer. 

X X X

Dmitri pushed the hood he wore back with his thumb. Something happened he didn’t recognize. Something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Glancing around, he studied the Milosians. They glanced toward the ceiling of rock overhead. They spoke in quick phrases, their voices low. Their concern moved through the damp, still air like a swarm of bees. 

The stone under Dmitri’s feet shuddered, just the faintest sensation. He knew that feeling. Bombs fell outside in Death Canyon, or overhead in Table City. He gritted his teeth together. Forty-eight hours, the Colonel promised. This wasn’t enough time. He hadn’t even found his way around this labyrinth of tunnels yet. How could he destroy the dragons now? 

“Flightleader!” someone shouted. 

Dmitri whipped around, spotting a woman running through the carved tunnel, waving her hand. “Flightleader!” 

“I hear it, Miriam!” he yelled as he charged off. “I’m going!” 

The woman skidded to a stop. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Good luck! Be safe!”

Dmitri rubbed his palm over his thigh, feeling the explosives wrapped around his leg. No one paid him any attention. Tugging his hat back down, he followed the man called ‘flightleader’. Since explosions made the stone shudder, Colonel Zoglakis had to have ordered the attack. Something must have happened to make her move up her timeline. Whatever had forced the colonel’s decision, Dmitri had less time to accomplish his mission. 

As he jogged after the flightleader, Dmitri smiled to himself. Explosives, after all, worked much faster than poisons. 

X X X 

“I didn’t know you had elevators,” Alphonse said, peering around the small car. He felt cramped in the tiny space, especially sharing it with two other people. He wasn’t even sure if his old suit of armor might’ve fit in here all by itself. The lift car certainly was more cramped than the back seat of an automobile. 

“There are a few of them, mostly for the miners and the hand cars used to haul the dirt to the surface,” Councilor Santiago said. “And for Creta to supervise our people and make sure we were hard at work.” Disgust marred his face at the memory. 

The car jolted down the tunnel, the grinding of the mechanism making Alphonse wish they’d walked rather than rode. Maybe he could suggest Winry take a look at it. She might be able to make it at least sound safe. 

“We lost some of the elevators during the coup,” Julia said. “We should get to work repairing those, but it’s not really top of our list of things to do, what with everything else going on.” 

The light flickered for a second. Alphonse tried not to wince, but his shoulders rose reflexively. He had to keep from reaching for the grill surrounding the car. 

“It does that, Al.” Julia laid her hand on his arm. 

The car jolted, knocking him into Julia, pinning her against the car wall. The grill groaned at their combined weight. “Damn!” Alphonse yelped, pushing off of her. “Sorry, Julia!”

“My lady, are you all right?” Santiago caught her shoulder. Blood trickled down his face from a cut in his hairline. 

Holding up a hand, Julia managed a quick smile. “I’m all right. And that’s new,” she added, for Alphonse’s sake. 

The car still whined its way down through the shaft. “Great. Can we stop the car and get off now?” Alphonse asked. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Julia threw the lever to stop at the next floor. The car shuddered again. 

Alphonse planted his hands against the grill wall to help keep his balance. “What is that?”

“Explosions,” Santiago said, glancing at the ceiling of the lift car. “Creta is bombing us.” 

How he said it so calmly, Alphonse didn’t know. The sound of sirens bounced up through the tube, reverberating against the stone walls. Alphonse wanted to cover his ears to block out the shriek, but he didn’t want to move his hands and get knocked down. If the stupid car stopped, he’d use alchemy to get them out – but if it fell. Damn it, he didn’t want to be imagining that! 

A slice of light showed at their feet, and the doorway appeared like a dream in front of them. Julia pulled the gate back before the car stopped entirely, gesturing Santiago through the opening first. Alphonse took her hand to make sure they went together. Letting her go last wasn’t going to happen. “Where now?” 

“I have to get to the aerie,” Julia said. “Councilor, can you take care of Al, and make sure he gets to his room?” 

“Why can’t I go with you?” Alphonse asked. 

Startled at the question, Julia seemed to consider for a few seconds. “All right,” she murmured, “maybe it’d be better if you’re there.” She straightened, nodding at Santiago. “Until later, Councilor.”

“Be safe, Lady Julia,” he said. “Young man.” 

“Thank you, sir, you, too,” Alphonse said over his shoulder as he followed Julia. She took off running, heading for a spiral staircase carved into the rocks. The stone jarred Alphonse’s knees as he raced down the stairs, but he wasn’t going to lose Julia. 

“We can’t take the bat wings down, not while Creta’s overhead,” Julia shouted back at him, as if he’d asked a question. “The fastest way to get to the aeries is the most dangerous, right now.” 

“Let’s try to survive long enough to get to the aeries, then,” Alphonse puffed along behind her. Running down the stairs was definitely easier than climbing, but he knew Izumi would’ve thrown him down the steps for feeling winded already. Something to think about. Mei’d told him about all the mountains in Xing, and how climbing some of them was considered not only an honor, but almost a sacred accomplishment. He’d vowed to himself to climb those mountains – but if he couldn’t run down a staircase, how could he ascend the peaks? 

When they arrived, the aerie was already in chaos. Someone shouted across the giant cavern, over the cries of the red dragons and their handlers. “There’re more than just the airships in the sky! Listen! More than airships in the sky! Creta sent flying chimeras!”

“Chimeras?” Alphonse couldn’t help but glance up, as if he could see through rock to the sky above. “Flying chimeras?”

“They’re finally going after our dragons.” Julia’s face seemed pale in the dim light of the cave. Sucking her lower lip between her teeth, she came to a decision. “Al, I have to get Marina ready.” She stood on her toes, kissing him on the cheek. Spinning away from Alphonse, Julia darted off into the mayhem of the aerie. He lost sight of her in the jumble of people amongst the dragons. 

There was nothing he could do here. Alphonse wondered where he could wait, if anyone would bother him if he stayed out of the way. Or should he try to find Edward and Winry? What could they be doing? “Petras,” he muttered to himself, and glanced around, finally spotting what had to be a stairway down to the other aerie. They might be there, rather than anywhere, considering how much time they’d spent with the dragon. Alphonse jogged across the aerie, ignoring the red dragons and the riders readying them for combat. Nothing he could help out with here, and at least finding Edward and Winry would be doing something.


	13. Come Crashing Down

**Train line, approaching Border City**

The canyon amazed Alex Louis, knowing Milosians excavated all the earth to create the canyon while under Cretan rule. How many people had died to dig a hole that great and wide? The losses must have been devastating. That there were still surviving Milosians to this day spoke of their temerity. Their regaining control of Milos seemed a forgone conclusion in the light of their fortitude.

Far off in the distance, he could spy the sparkle of light on the city of Milos. It looked almost organic, like part of a mountain’s peak, rising from the depths of the canyon. Why had the Elrics decided to return to Milos? Had their presence in the city-state caused this flare up? Or was it only a matter of timing and coincidence? 

Stroking his thumb over his mustache, Alex Louis studied the distant land. The rail line damaged by Creta’s attack left Milos truly on her own, and open to further predations from Creta.

A glimmer of light caught his eye, and Alex Louis focused on it. Frowning, he leaned closer to the window. The glare on the glass distorted his vision, even when he cupped his hands around his eyes. Opening the window, he bit back a gasp at the rush of cold air from the change in the train car’s pressure. 

“Lieutenant Colonel!” Grumman protested. 

“Sir. Do you have a pair of field glasses?” Alex Louis glanced away from the window.

Grumman blinked. “Mm? Why?”

Raising his voice to be heard over the rushing wind, Alex Louis said, “If I am correct, airships are attacking Milos at this moment, sir.” 

“What?” Grumman rose out of his seat, adjusting his glasses to peer out the window. “Glasses. In the desk, second drawer to the left.” Alex Louis fetched them, passing the glasses to Grumman. He accepted them and tipped his glasses onto the top of his head, adjusting the binoculars to look through them, past the train car’s window. “You’re right, Armstrong, that’s an attack. We need to warn Border City to be on the alert!” 

As Grumman pulled back inside the train car, Alex Louise stuck his head out. Facing into the wind, he could see a gathering, a massing of blue. Retreating back inside, he said, “The military is aware, Fuhrer.” 

Grumman smiled, adjusting his glasses back on his nose and smoothing his wind-blown tonsure of hair. “Excellent news. Let’s make ready to join them, shall we?” 

“Sir,” Alex Louis agreed.

**Table City, Milos**

Petras laced her ears back flat against her head. Her tail whipped from side to side, stirring the sandy floor. “Easy, Petras,” Winry crooned, patting the air with her hands. “You’re hurt. You can’t fight.”

Edward glanced back toward Petras for a few seconds, then turned his attention to Spaso. “You have to understand – those chimeras out there, we don’t know what they can do. Creta’s known for creating chimeras by alchemy. Those things don’t look like they should fly, but they are!” 

Shaking his head, Spaso said, “We still have to fight. Creta wants to conquer Milos again.” He adjusted his flight jacket, zipping it closed. “This isn’t your battle, Elric. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I understand your dragons can’t carry weapons!”

“They do. Well, we do.” Spaso pulled his gloves out of a pocket, tugging them on. “But the dragons themselves are more dangerous than anything we can produce. There are cannons,” he cocked his head at the sound of a boom echoing down the canyon walls, and a faint cheer following. “We fire those against the Cretan ships, and those creatures. But our best defense against Creta will always be our dragons.” 

“There needs to be another way! These dragons, they’re intelligent!” Edward threw his hand toward Petras. “They’re healers!”

Spaso gave him the slightest smile. “And healers sometimes take up arms, too, to protect those they love.” Before Edward could retort, Spaso spun on his heel. “Mount up! Rifles at ready! Make sure you have extra bullets. Those monsters out there, we don’t know what to expect, but at least we know they’re there. Be careful. Take care of yourself and your dragon. And watch for each other as best you can!” 

The Milosians shouted in agreement, some of them brandishing rifles over their heads. Edward bit back a shout of rage, turning around to Winry. She’d entered Petras’s stall. The dragon hissed and clattered at her, her tail lashing back and forth. “You don’t scare me, Petras!” Winry scolded. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. And you know you’re not in shape to go out there!” She pointed toward the bolt hole, where the dragons massed to take off from the launch pad. 

“That’s,” Edward mumbled. He frowned, squinting at the opening. Something clicked in his mind. “Get back!” he screamed, trying to be heard over the ruckus of the aerie. “Get the hell back!” Waving his arms, he charged toward the bolt hole. 

Something dropped out of the sky, smashing down onto the launch pad. The dragons squalled in response, flapping backward. Wings faltered as a chimera roared, lunging into the hole. Its horns caught the closest dragon, tearing through flesh, staining the green hide with blood. Another dragon flung itself forward, ripping into the chimera’s shoulder with teeth and claws. The chimera roared in pain, raking at its attacker. Its heavy body bore the dragon to the cave floor. 

“Get the dragons back!” Edward screamed. Combinations of transmutation circles flashed in his mind, and he swore again at his inability to perform alchemy. 

Spaso whistled, sharp and loud. The riders and the dragons glanced toward him. Edward did, too. “Shoot the monster!” Spaso shouted, shouldering his rifle and taking aim all in one motion. He fired, and the bullet shattered one of the chimera’s horns. 

Edward winced, stopping short. There had to be a better way, he just couldn’t think of it. “Damn it!” 

The report of bullets echoed off the cavern walls. A scream of pain ripped through the air, and the chimera thrust forward. Its remaining horn gored into another dragon. The dragon shrilled, beating his wings and snapping at the back of the chimera. That gave the chimera the chance to fling its head, the horn punching into the dragon’s chest. Wings flailed as the dragon died, its wail bouncing off of stone, causing other dragons to scream in response. Another chimera landed on the launch pad, charging into the fray, another following it, squalling a battle cry. 

“Ed!” 

He wondered how many times Winry had shouted his name. From her red face, too many. Edward dashed back to her, skidding into the stable. Petras roared her own challenge at the chimeras, the crest on her head flaring out and rattling. Her tail thumped on the floor, sand flying from the force of the impact. “No, Petras!” Edward shouted. Spreading his arms wide, he blocked her path. 

Petras trumpeted at the chimeras. The wind from the downdraft of her wings tore sand from the floor. Winry threw up her arms, shielding her face. “Petras, no!” she yelled as the dragon lunged out of her stall, snapping the rope barricade with her chest. Flinging Edward aside with the force of her charge, she bellowed again. 

“Ed!” Winry cried, sounding so far away, almost like a dream. 

His head throbbed from smacking into the floor. Edward tried to focus on Petras. She spun in dizzying arcs, her head like that of a hydra’s, too many to count. 

“Ed!” Alphonse caught Edward under his arms and dragged him away from Petras’s fury.

A chimera roared and the dragons answered. The sound of gunfire ricocheted through the cavern. The hot stink of cordite and blood added to the aerie’s miasma. Edward grunted, trying to throw off Alphonse. His head pulsed like a thunder cloud. He saw double for a few seconds before his vision cleared. Bile flooded his mouth and he swallowed it down, hard. No time for any of this shit. His right eye stung and Edward wiped it, seeing blood on his fingers. 

_No time._

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Winry shouted to be heard over the fighting animals. 

“She’s right, we’re gonna be crushed,” Alphonse said. 

The dragons and chimeras struggled like a tide, green dragon hides and the blotchy grey of the chimeras’ skins swelling forward, then rolling back. The chimeras, with their bulk and long horns, seemed to be making headway, crashing farther into the aerie with each surge. 

“The dragons,” Edward whispered. He searched for Petras in the melee, not seeing her reddish body. The battle turned to something horrific, worse even than what he’d seen in the skies. The chimeras plowed through the fighting dragons, decimating them and Milosians next to them. Soon, they’d be nothing more than broken bodies on the cave floor. The dragons didn’t have the bulk to even hold their own against the chimeras on the ground. In the air, they might have a chance, but the ceiling was too low here for them to fly. 

Alphonse hissed through his teeth. “They’re getting slaughtered.” 

“Fuck!” Edward yelled into the din as another dragon fell to the chimeras. He couldn’t do anything to help. Useless as the bastard in the rain. Without alchemy, what could he do? 

As if reading his mind, Alphonse slapped his hands together, slamming into the wall at his side. The rock rippled, and a fist of stone punched out of it, crashing into a chimera and knocking it back. Another fist, then another, appeared out of the stone wall and floor. The fists smashed into the chimeras, sending them flying. “Ed, get Winry out of here!” Alphonse yelled, sending another battery of stone fists into the thrashing chimeras. 

“Damn it!” Edward finally let Winry drag him out of the corridor, running with her. They dodged into the stairway arch, both of the stopping and looking back. “Al!” 

Alphonse’s stone fists drove the chimeras to the launch pad, not giving them room to go anywhere else, forcing them to retreat. Cheers rose from the embattled Milosians as Alphonse’s alchemy pushed them farther out, until their only recourse was flying. They lifted off, bawling their fury. A few of the less damaged dragons swarmed up over the transmuted rock, attempting to wriggle through the openings and go after their prey. Their riders climbed after them, trying to calm the dragons down enough to get them saddled and ready for battle.

Winry hugged Edward, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He squeezed her close, inhaling the scent of her fear deep in his nostrils. Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “We’re okay. We’re all okay.” 

Letting out a shaky breath, Winry pulled back. Her eyes were dry, but her mouth trembled when she tried to smile. “Yeah.” Patting his chest, she turned at Alphonse’s call. “Al! You’re amazing!” She hugged him, too. Alphonse patted her back, giving Edward a lopsided grin. 

Edward raised his fist, bumping it into Alphonse’s. “She’s right.” 

“I learned from the best,” Alphonse said, his throat bobbing. “Guess I’d better clear that out so the dragons can get out there.” He waved his hand back toward the launch pad. 

The sound reverberated through the cave, a rumble that nearly knocked Winry off her feet. Edward grabbed her around the waist to keep her upright. The stone groaned, louder than the screams from the Milosians. Cracks spread through the ceiling overhead, chips of rock raining down. Alphonse lunged into the stairway alcove, and they sandwiched Winry between them. 

The quake lasted too long, but Edward knew it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, if even that. Alphonse let go first, wiping at his tearing eyes. “Damn it!” Winry coughed against Edward’s chest from the dust flying up from the ground. Edward rubbed her shoulders before releasing her. “Ed, that was a bomb.” 

“I thought the caves were protected!” Winry said, covering her mouth as she coughed again. 

“The explosion came from the dragas’ aerie!” Spaso shouted, somehow loud enough to be heard over the confusion. 

“Julia,” Alphonse whispered, his face going white under the dirt. “I’ve got.” He charged up the stairs. 

Edward sucked in a breath, dust clogging his throat and making him cough. Winry grasped his shoulder, steadying him this time. “Go,” she said. 

“What about?” He searched her eyes, seeing the steady conviction there. 

“I’ll do what I can to help here.” Smiling faintly, Winry rose on her toes and kissed him. Firm. Sure. Then she sank, turned on her heel, and trotted down the stairs, cupping her hands around her mouth. “I have medical skills! Where do you need me?” she shouted. 

Throat moving, Edward swiped at his eyes, clearing them of dust and tears. He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

X X X 

Dmitri paused at the stairway opening. The roar was nothing like he’d heard before. Rock dust clouded everything, and from within those plumes, screams erupted like lava. Dragons, humans, the sound rose in his ears like a sweet song. He’d done it. He’d conquered the dragons for Colonel Zoglakis. He wanted to cheer, but the colonel needed to know what he’d done. He had to make his escape – there wasn’t time to gloat. 

The fastest way out of Milos was down, and he raced down the stairs, sliding on the risers, slick from dust and rubble. He landed on his butt, the fall jarring his spine. Climbing back to his feet, he staggered for a few seconds, bracing himself on the wall next to him. Dmitri used it to help keep his balance as he continued down the stairway. Dirt and dust plumed around his feet, making the way down faster than he could. Pebbles bounced down the risers, making it dangerous to hurry. He coughed, pressing the back of his fist to his mouth, pausing to catch his breath. A young man ran up the stairs past him, barely giving him a glance. Dmitri smiled to himself, and continued downward. 

Another young man climbed the stairs, the sound of his tread on the stone unnaturally loud. He glanced at Dmitri, who met his gaze. “Hey,” he said. Dmitri ignored him. The young man caught his arm in a grip like a steel band as he tried to pass by. “What’s going on up there?” he asked. 

“I…an explosion!” Dmitri ducked his head, shrugging, trying to throw off the man’s grip. “Please, let go!”

“There are people who need help up there,” the man said, and somehow, his voice reminded Dmitri of the sound rocks made when ground against each other. “Why are you running away?”

“I – I can’t do anything!” He attempted again to force the man to relax his grip. Instead, his fingers tightened. 

“You can move rock! People need our help!” The Milosian began dragging Dmitri back up the stairs. He pulled him up three steps before Dmitri broke free. Reaching for the two-shot pistol hidden in his clothes, Dmitri pulled it on the man. He saw the gun, his mouth tightening. “You’re not from Milos, are you?” 

“I am from Creta, and you’ll be bowing down before me soo - ”

The young man moved before Dmitri got the last word out. He roared, leaping onto the wall. Springboarding off it, he led with his left leg. The weight of it crashed into Dmiti, spinning him around. The gun went clattering down the steps. Dmitri collapsed, the edge of a stone riser cutting into his ribs. The man grabbed the front of his tunic, half-hauling him up. “Are there any other bombs?” he shouted in Dmitri’s face. 

Dmitri got his legs under him, pushing up. He smashed his skull into the man’s chin. The man staggered back, swearing. Hearing the whine of automail, Dmitri tried to hook the man’s nearest leg. He danced backward, and Dmitri leaped down a set of stairs. This man knew how to fight, better than Dmitri expected. 

“Hey!” The man moved just as fast, the rubble on the risers not slowing him down. 

Not about to argue further, Dmitri rushed along the steps. His pursuer clomped after him, just a few steps behind as Dmitri reached the mouth of the staircase, the entry into another set of dragon lairs. How many were there, he wondered? The stench in this one was so thick, it hurt to draw breath. Tears flooded Dmitri’s eyes as he exploded from the stairway. Barely able to see, he swiped at his face with his sleeve, trying to keep moving. There had to be a stairway close by. 

The rocks around him groaned a faint accompaniment to the bombs falling onto Milos. Heart soaring, Dmitri wished for the open skies and clean air overhead, rather than this charnel pit. People moaned and wailed. Their monstrous beasts cried out, thrashing in their death throes. Dmitri smiled at the unholy chorus of pain.

“You!” 

Dmitri skipped sideways at the familiar voice, managing to avoid a kick. Turning his momentum into a blow of his own, he swung around in a roundhouse punch. The man dodged, leaping up onto a low stone wall. He launched himself off it with a roar. Dmitri stepped into the attack. He grabbed for the man’s shoulders, kicking up into the man’s stomach and falling onto his back. The man grunted as Dmitri threw him off, Dmitri tracking his arch. The man curled his body, bouncing back like a rubber ball. His fingers flexed, fisting up. Dmitri wiped his face with his sleeve, a quick swipe, trying to lead the Milosian in for an attack. 

He smiled, though the flash of his teeth reminded Dmitri more of a wild animal’s snarl. “You bastard. Infiltrating the aeries, using bombs against sentient beings. Do you have any idea how smart the dragons are? What they can do?” 

Dmitri spat. “They’re Milosian,” he sneered. “Scum. Dirt. Lower than dirt!” 

The taunts didn’t work. The man’s smile broadened, a cold, dangerous showing of his teeth. His fighting stance relaxed. “The dragons come from Xing,” he said, almost conversationally. “Be nice or the one behind you will bite.” 

His sharp laugh died as damp air gusted against the back of Dmitri’s neck. Despite the heat of it, a cold chill swept down his spine. Now he could hear its breath, feel the warmth of its body. Dmitri wriggled his fingers, edging his hand slowly toward the knife hidden in his clothing. 

The sound of breathing increased to a floor-rumbling growl. “Don’t,” the Milosian snapped at the same time. Dmitri ground his teeth together, but went still. Hot breath enveloped the back of his neck, letting him know just how large the beast behind him had to be. A shove took him by surprise, knocking him off balance. With a yelp, Dmitri crashed to the ground, his knees cracking against the stone floor. The Milosian dropped next to him, sticking his knee in the small of Dmitri’s back. He snatched Dmitri’s wrist, twisting it. Pain shot through his arm, ripping along his nerves like a lightning strike. Before he could scream, he felt something wrapping around his wrist. The Milosian jerked Dmitri’s other arm up, tying his arms tight behind his back. “There. Thanks for your help, Petras.” 

“Bastard,” Dmitri spat. He shut up as the dragon shoved at his thigh with its nose. 

“Who’s this, Ed?” Dmitri twisted his head, trying to get a look at the woman who’d spoken. Blue eyes showed beneath a fringe of blond bangs. She wiped her hands on a rag, blood stains evident on the fabric. Her curves drew the eye, enticed a man, even under the swaddling Milosian clothes. 

The Milosian caught her arm above the elbow, drawing her close. “A Cretan who bombed the aerie.” Jerking his chin, he glanced at the rock ceiling overhead. 

The woman gasped, meeting Dmitri’s eyes for a few seconds before she glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll kill him,” she whispered fiercely as she turned back to the man.

“Yeah.” He squeezed her arm, his gaze drifting past the woman to the dragon. “Unless we get him out of here. He deserves a trial, not to be killed outright.” 

The woman followed his line of sight. “He won’t get it here.” 

“Maybe in Amestris.” The dragon made a querulous noise. Dmitri saw it tip its head out of the corner of his eye. ‘Ed’ rubbed his chin, making his decision. “Wait here with him, Winry. You, too, Petras. I’m getting your harness.” 

Dmitri gaped after him as he darted off. “I’m not going anywhere on a dragon!” 

The woman squatted down to his level. “I don’t think you have any choice.” The dragon growled in agreement.

X X X

Julia groaned. Pain ate away at her, chewing at her legs and sides like a beast gnawing at its prey. Her head rang and, for a few blinks of her eyelids, Julia saw more than one large rock next to two left hands. When her vision cleared, she attempted to sit up, gasping at the knife blade agony stabbing into her ribs. Her sight clouded again as she whooped, trying to catch her breath. The dust in the air caught in her throat, making her cough. Her ribs screamed in pain at each exhalation. Broken, she decided, or at least fractured. Sucking her finger into her mouth, Julia drew a transmutation circle on her own skin. Pressing her hand flat on it before it dried out and vanished, she activated the circle, transmuting her ribs whole. She fought back a scream, clenching her jaw and grunting through the pain blooming in her chest. 

The transmutation light surrounding her body faded, and Julia tested her ribs by inhaling. The strain on the newly-healed ribs made them sting, but she could ignore it. Getting to her feet, she stumbled over rubble, catching her balance by wind milling her arms. She could barely see anything. The bolt hole and launch pad provided the only light, but even that filtered through the dust clogging the air. What she thought was a boulder proved to be a dragon, smashed by rocks from the cave-in. Her heart clutched. “Marina! Marina, where are you?” 

Screams and cries swallowed Julia’s shout. Gritting her teeth, she climbed over the dragon’s body, recognizing it as one of the oldest females. She patted the dragon’s side, whispering, “Sorry.” Nothing she could do here, she had to keep moving. “Marina!” 

Hearing a familiar vocal clatter, Julia oriented on it, stumbling her way to her dragon. Marina slapped her tail on the floor, her wings extending toward Julia, almost an embrace. She caught Marina’s head in her arms, hugging her. “I’m here,” she said, rubbing her cheek against Marina’s eye ridge. Stepping back, she peered at her dragon. “Are you all right?” 

Marina grumbled low in her throat, swinging her head toward the bolt hole. Her tail lashed from side to side, the fins behind her head rising in agitation. She chuffed, turning back to Julia. “I know, we need to fly, but I have to see to the others.” Julia rubbed Marina’s cheeks. “Wait for me here.”

Rumbling again, Marina followed her anyway, and Julia knew she couldn’t insist she wait in her stall. She might need Marina’s strength to dig people or dragons out. At least the floor didn’t shake any more, and no rocks fell out of the ceiling. Julia wanted to use her alchemy, try to shore things up, but she wasn’t sure she should. She needed to know what was going on, how many people and dragons were hurt before she used her alchemy on the cave. “Stay close.” Marina huffed, the exhalation of warm air gusting against Julia’s back. She relaxed, as much as she could with everything around her, but at least Marina had survived. They both had, and they’d do whatever they could to make it right. 

“Julia!” 

Hearing Alphonse’s voice, she turned. “Al!” He held out his arms, and Julia ran into them. He smelled of sweat and dust and blood, an acrid stink. She scolded herself for even thinking it. Marina shuffled her feet behind her, grumbling again. Julia understood, and extracted herself from Alphonse’s arms. “I’m glad you’re all right, Al, but I need to see to everyone else.” 

“Julia, I think you need to get Marina out of here, and as many dragons as you can take. Chimeras attacked the other aerie! If they land here, you’ll never get the dragons out.”

She swallowed hard, looking from Alphonse to Marina. Making her decision, she grabbed his wrist. “We need a saddle. Marina, come with us!” Julia dragged Alphonse along with her, back to the tack room. She could saddle Marina blindfolded, but Alphonse – could she leave him here? “You need a flight jacket!” Pointing to the jackets, some still hanging on the wall, most of them on the floor, Julia found Marina’s saddle buried under some rubble. She cleared it with a grunt, needing Alphonse’s help to move the heaviest rocks out of the way. Finally, Julia saddled Marina, turning back to Alphonse. “Get on,” she said. 

“What?”

“Get on. I’m going to need your help.” Julia pointed to the saddle. “I need to strap you in.” 

“Uh.” Alphonse shook his head, and grabbed a jacket, pulling it on. He cinched it closed, finding a pair of goggles with only a few scratches on the lenses. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” Julia waited until he’d settled into the saddle, hooking him on with the safety straps, then climbed in front of him. Marina looked back over her shoulder, grunting low in her throat. “I know you can carry both of us,” Julia said. “Come on, let’s get everyone moving.” 

Marina squalled, the sound echoing around the chamber. Other dragons responded, and she shook her head, the fins around her skull rattling. Opening her mouth wider, she screamed. This time, more dragons roared in answer, the sound making Alphonse slap his hands over his ears. Julia smiled grimly, pulling her goggles down and tugging at her straps to make sure of them. “Marina, take us out,” she said. Marina leaped across the cavern, galloping toward the bolt hole and the launching pad. Alphonse yelped, throwing his arms around Julia’s waist. She’d be willing to wager he closed his eyes. Julia kept hers open. She needed to see what they were up against, out there. Tapping her headset, she said, “Anyone on the frequency, answer now. Marina and I are taking off.”


	14. Wings Open Wide

**Table City, Milos**

Edward carried a two-seater saddle, a flight jacket slung around his shoulders and another pair clenched in his teeth. “Nng!” he grunted, throwing the saddle over Petras’s withers. Ducking down, he grabbed the cinch, pulling it tight, then attached the chest guard. The jackets in his mouth kept getting in the way, so he tossed them to Winry. “Put one of those on!” 

“Ed?” 

He grabbed the chest guard, buckling it taut. “You’re going flying, Winry.”

“What?” She gaped at him. 

“Flying. Petras, you can carry three, can’t you?” He slapped her neck.

Petras snorted at him before nudging Winry with her snout. It broke Winry out of her astonishment, and she pulled on the jacket mechanically, zipping and buttoning it closed. “Can you really carry all of us?” she asked Petras. 

Lifting her head, Petras fixed her with her gaze and grumbled in her throat. She turned toward the Cretan, tied up on the floor. Her claws flexed and Petras leaned closer, huffing at him. “You’re not putting me on that beast!” he shouted. Petras huffed, turning her head away from him, focusing on Edward, her ears flipping up. 

“Yeah,” Edward said, flashing his teeth at the Cretan. “You’re right. We’ll need to put the coat on him, and then, we need more rope.” 

X X X

Alphonse took a deep breath as Marina loped toward the edge of the platform of rock. A dragon’s running gait was nothing like a horse’s; more like what Alphonse thought riding a rabbit might be like. It jarred him more than he liked. Clinging to the saddle handholds, he pressed himself against Julia’s spine. She’d transmuted the saddle to make it big enough for the two of them. Attached to the saddle with straps to hold him in place, Alphonse admitted the straps were probably a good idea as Marina’s wings opened partway. Her claws dug into the stone, and she grunted as she leaped off the ledge. 

They fell, a sickening sensation that made Alphonse’s stomach rise up into his throat. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming. The canyon floor seemed far too close before Marina’s wings caught the air, sending them up above the canyon walls, up into battle. Airships and chimeras flew there, the chimeras turning toward Marina eagerly. Their wings flapped hard to catch up to her. She bellowed at them, flicking her tail in challenge. Other dragons appeared in the sky, leaping off the cave ledge to join Marina. Alphonse heard the chatter of gunfire, automatically wincing. Marina flicked one wing, and went into a spiraling dive. Alphonse swallowed, trying to keep control of his stomach. 

“Hold on!” Julia said. 

Alphonse half-hated her for the cheerful tone in her voice. His stomach lost its mooring when Marina flipped upside down. He clenched his fingers around the grips, tightening his legs on Marina’s ribs. The dragon flew upside down, doing a lazy arc that turned her right side up again. Alphonse caught sight of a winged machine, chasing after one of the dragons. A chimera dove after the machine. The machine maneuvered away from the chimera, leading it toward the dragons. Alphonse wondered if the flying machines were just bait to guide the chimeras to Milos and the dragons. Airships hovered overhead, peaceful except for the horrible booms of cannons and reports of gunfire, echoing across the canyon. 

“Julia!” Even through the tinny sound of a radio transmission, Alphonse recognized his brother’s voice. “Winry and I are on Petras! Are you leading an attack?” 

Julia twisted to look at Alphonse out of the corner of her eye. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth. “I have Al with me, Ed.” 

“Al?” Edward sputtered over the radio. “We’ve, uh. We’ve got a prisoner.” 

“A prisoner and Winry? Is Petras all right?” Julia asked sharply.

“She agreed to it – whoa!” Alphonse heard Winry’s squeal of shock following hard on Edward’s exclamation. Jerking around, he spotted a red dragon, wings folded tight to her body, diving in a spin so fast, she almost seemed a blur. A chimera roared after her, its body seeming too heavy to fly. Another faint scream came over the radio, ending abruptly as Petras opened her wings a fraction, her spiral ending in an arc that swooped her up along a canyon wall. The chimera didn’t have the same maneuverability, slamming into the cliff. 

Alphonse winced at the sight of it, but Marina spun them away from that vision. He caught a glimpse of sky, blue enough to rival the Amestrian military outfits, and the airships, and the buzzing winged machines. A chimera lunged after one of the machines, ignoring the dragons flying into the melee. 

“What are you doing, Ed?” Julia shouted into the radio mic. 

Alphonse spun as much as he could, finally spotting Petras. She hovered, as much as a dragon could above an airship. “What in hell?”

**Border City, Amestris**

“Well, well, isn’t that fascinating!” Grumman said, peering through his field glasses at the aerial battle taking place in the canyon. “Dragons! And those other creatures. I guess they’re not dragons? And two kinds of airships.” 

Next to him, Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong looked through a pair of glasses of his own. “Creta is attacking Milos.”

“There’s nothing we can do from here,” Lieutenant Colonel Sterling said sharply. “When Creta took out the train line, they destroyed our ability to offer any assistance.” 

Grumman lowered his glasses. “Your troops are having a hard time crossing the canyon floor, then?”

Sterling bridled. “Sir.” 

With a smile, Grumman said, “It would be what I’d do. You did mention the airship at the bottom of the canyon, I assumed, Sterling, that you’d send your troops across to offer assistance you could. Especially since we want to keep our options open regarding Milos.” 

“Sir.” Her face flushing, Sterling said, “I have sent troops to the canyon floor to retrieve the airship. A scouting expedition started its way across the canyon floor yesterday morning.”

“Only scouts?” Grumman tsked, shaking his head. “I do hope they have radios?”

“Of course, sir.” 

“Sir,” Armstrong said, urgently. “It appears something is happening.” 

“Of course something’s happening, there’s a war,” Sterling snapped. 

Grumman raised his glasses, fiddling the focus. “Where, Armstrong?”

“One o’clock, sir.” 

Armstrong’s sheer size gave him a boost. Grumman hoped he’d be able to find what the man wanted him to see. He trained the glasses toward the sky, managing to keep from gasping at the sight. A dragon circled over the envelope of one of the airships. It looked as if it might land on the envelope, but instead, the rider poised on the back of the dragon before leaping off it. 

“Sir, I believe that is one of the Elric brothers.” Armstrong’s pride made his voice fairly gleam. 

“Oh, my.”

**Above Death Canyon, Milos**

“You’re crazy, Ed! You can’t do this!” Winry grabbed for his wrist, clinging tight. 

“They’re shooting at the dragons,” Edward said, “with the cannons and bombs – I can stop one, at least! Look, there’s a ladder on the balloon.” He broke free of Winry’s grip, stabbing a finger at the ladder. “I can climb down it and get into the boat.” 

“They have guns, Ed!” Winry wanted to punch him. “What’s to keep them from shooting you?”

“They won’t expect it.” He smiled at her, best he could from the angle he twisted into.

“He’s insane,” the Cretan, tied to the saddleback behind Winry, shouted, nearly in her ear. “Insane!”

“I’m trying to stop this fighting with the least loss of lives,” Edward said. “Petras, take us as close to that balloon as you can.” 

Petras chuffed, but started spiraling in that direction. “Ed,” Winry decided to try again, ignoring the man behind her. “Just because there’s a ladder doesn’t mean you’re going to make it down safely. You see how high up we are! You could fall! I know you’re,” she couldn’t think of a word for Edward’s abilities, “but you can’t fly yourself! And Petras might not be able to catch you!” 

Edward leaned against Winry, laying the back of his head on her shoulder. “I’ll be okay,” he said, almost shouting it to be heard over the wind. “I made you a promise. I’m going to keep it.” He cupped her cheek, his hand cold from their height, pulling her in for a kiss. “I’m always coming back to you.” 

“Ed.” Winry laid her hand over his. “It’s really dangerous.” 

“I know.” He grinned. “That’s what makes it fun.” He kissed her again and leaned over Petras’s neck, not giving Winry time to react. “C’mon, Petras. A little closer!” 

Winry shook her head, exasperated, but wrapped her arms around Edward anyway. His ponytail lashed her face as she kissed him on the back of the neck. Behind her, she heard the Cretan scoff. Her cheeks heated, but she ignored the Cretan as she straightened up. Petras drew closer to the balloon, and Winry thought, maybe the surface was big enough for Edward to land on. Still, she really hated the idea. If they hadn’t used all the rope to tie off the Cretan, she could suggest tying Edward to the saddle as a precautionary measure. 

Petras cupped her wings, slowing their descent, matching the speed of the airship. She glided over it, and Edward began unhooking himself from the saddle. Winry forced her hands to release him, anchoring them on the saddle instead. Her breath came quick and shaky, and she closed her eyes tight, just for an instant. 

“I’m going,” Edward said. 

Julia’s voice came over his radio, tinny and strange. “Ed, what are you doing?” 

“Jumping.” And he leaped. 

X X X

Edward knew this was possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever done, leaping from the back of a dragon – a _flying_ dragon - to land on a balloon keeping a ship in the air. He caught a glimpse of Winry’s pale, wide-eyed face as he jumped. His heart lunged into his throat as he dropped the meter down to the balloon, landing on the material. It gave under his feet, knocking Edward off balance. He flailed, hearing Winry scream his name, and felt something under his fingers. Grabbing hold, Edward let out a gasp of shock as his legs swung out into the open air. 

Edward scrambled to get a footing, discovering the ladder with his right foot. Kicking hard, he secured his foothold. “There,” he grunted, glancing over his shoulder at Petras’s roar. A chimera floundered too close to her, to him, and she charged. Knowing he couldn’t watch, shouldn’t watch, Edward forced his face to the skin of the airship. He began climbing down, ignoring the rattling of machine guns. Trying hard not to think about the muzzles of those guns pointing at him, Edward gritted his teeth. The promise he made to Winry still held, and he intended to keep it. 

Spotting the chimera, Edward saw it chasing after Petras. She dove under the airship. Winry’s hair flew like a pale gold flag behind her. He wanted to watch, to make sure they – she – was safe, but he’d made his decision. The airmen waited for him, whether they knew it or not. Hoping their attention was focused anywhere but directly above them, Edward crouched at the lower curve of the balloon. A quick glance revealed one at the controls, three others firing machine guns. He wondered if the ship carried bombs, too, but they weren’t evident. Keeping a tight grip on the rung of the ladder, Edward flung his body out into space for momentum, curling his legs up as he swung back down. With a yell, he opened his hands, smashing down into the gondola of the airship.

**Thessalia, Creta**

“What is going on?” Generalissimo Zirimis muttered, trying to adjust his field glasses for a better vision. 

Eirene wondered the same thing. The radio feed was garbled. Captain Therrel led the airships and the bi-wings, but with such a close air space to battle, and the chimeras added to the mix, it was nothing but confusion. Dragons swirled around, far more graceful than the chimeras. Even the bi-wings couldn’t keep up with the dragons. 

Zirimis swore. “They’re so damned maneuverable!” 

The statement needed no response, as far as Eirene was concerned. Hearing chatter over the radio, she focused on one feed. “Who is that?” 

“Sir, ship four. I’ll try to clear it up for you.” Sergeant Argyris worked her alchemy, trying to tune the frequency in. “Got it, sir.” 

“Turn it up.”

The feed crackled, then, “ – man attacking!” 

“Oh, shut up!” A horrible, fleshy sound echoed over the feed, like a fist slamming into a face. The strange voice came through clearer. “Hey, Creta! I’ve just commandeered your airship. Hope that’s okay.” 

Snatching up the mike, Zirimis roared, “Who is this?” Veins on his forehead popped out and his knuckles went white. 

“Me? Edward Elric from Amestris. Maybe you’ve heard of me? I was known as the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

**Above Death Canyon, Milos**

Alphonse slapped his forehead, hearing Edward’s gloating on the radio. 

“Your brother is mad,” Julia said, almost conversationally.

“You have no idea, Julia.” Alphonse took a deep breath. “Can Marina get us close enough for me to capture another airship?”

**Thessalia, Creta**

“Where are my men?” Zirimis shouted into the radio. “What the fuck did you do with my men?”

“Oh, they’re fine,” the cheerful voice came over the airwaves. “Unconscious, but okay. I thought about throwing them over, but didn’t know if their glider wings might open without someone to activate them. Do they open if someone’s unconscious?” 

Veins popped out on Zirimis’s forehead, and the mic shuddered in his hand. Spit bubbles formed in the corners of his mouth. “I will wipe you out of the sky!”

“Uh huh. Look, I’ve got things to do. See you around!” The radio feed cut off.

“Get him back!” Zirimis pounded the counter next to Sergeant Argyris, making her jump. “Now! Make an announcement!” He straightened, squaring his shoulders and staring out toward the air battle. “Whoever brings me the head of Edward Elric gets a promotion!”

**Above Death Canyon, Milos**

Winry’s heart lodged in her throat. “Edward Elric, you are such an idiot!” she shouted into the radio mic. 

“I’m fine,” Edward scoffed in return. “Hey, I can’t fly this thing. And the guy who would fly it is, uh, unconscious. Can you help me out?”

“I’m not leaping off of Petras!” Winry screeched. 

“Damn it, you don’t have to yell! You’re busting my ear drums!” Winry could see him rub his ear. “We’ve got a ship, what are we going to do with it?” 

“We need to get you off it,” Alphonse said, breaking in. “They’re gonna attack you, Ed!” 

“He’s right, Ed,” Julia said. “We need to get you out of there.”

“No way! I’m keeping this boat. Winry! There’re ropes here, if I throw you one, get Petras to fly to Amestris.”

“Amestris? Why?” Julia asked. 

“Because there’s a mass of blue over in the east, and I’m betting it’s the Amestrian army.” Edward swept his arm toward the Amestris side of Death Canyon. “Maybe we can get you some help, Julia!”

Petras plummeted. Winry’s heart clogged her throat. She hoped the knots tying the Cretan in place still held. A glance over her shoulder showed why Petras dove – one of those two-winged flying machines chased toward them. Machine guns rattled and Winry saw flashes of light from the muzzles. She ducked low against Petras’s body, clinging tight. The loose harness buckles slapped against the saddle, one of them slapping Winry’s cheek and cutting it. She barely felt the sting. Flattening her wings against her body, Petras rolled. The machine couldn’t duplicate the maneuver, but swayed from side to side, guns still rattling out bullets. Petras inclined her body into a steep arc. Winry squeaked, wanting to close her eyes at the sight of the canyon floor, so far below. Her fingers ached from clutching the saddle so tightly. 

Upside-down, she looked straight down at the pilot in the flying machine, his goggles glinting up at her. His mouth moved and Winry thought he might’ve said, ‘Oh, shit!’ as Petras swooped around behind him. Flapping her wings once, she powered up to the machine, diving under it, her tail slapping up into the rear of the machine’s body, breaking it open like an egg. Petras peeled off as the machine went nose down. The man managed to escape, a pair of bat wings opening out of his pack. He spiraled down toward the canyon floor. 

“Petras!” Winry shouted, as a chimera plunged after the man. “Help him!” 

Petras dropped like a stone. Hearing the Cretan behind her scream, Winry clenched her teeth. What was she doing? Petras bawled out her challenge, the sound vibrating through Winry’s legs. She hit the chimera with the weight of her whole body. It squalled in shock, its wings faltering. The chimera staggered in the air. It twisted, snapping at Petras. Petras jerked her head out of reach. Her claws dug deep into the chimera’s flesh and she leaped, ripping out hunks of skin and muscle. The chimera squalled, trying to fly. Swinging her tail like a club, Petras battered the wings of the creature. 

Winry clung to the saddle, clenching her jaw. Every blow vibrated up through her, making her teeth chatter. Behind her, she could hear the Cretan screaming to his god to keep him safe and alive. Her earphones burst with chatter, incoherent over everything else. Petras dove again, catching up to the man circling down, his wings taking him out of the range of the aerial battle. Matching his speed, Petras turned her head toward him. Winry did, too. He looked okay, to her, stunned, maybe. She knew how that felt. “Okay, Petras.” Her voice trembled and she tried again. “Let’s go help Ed.” 

X X X

“Take down that ship!” Captain Therrel ordered over the radio. “The _Air Strider._ Take her down!”

“What about our own men?” 

He tightened his mouth. “Casualties should always be expected in war. You heard the Generalissimo. The one to bring down Edward Elric gets promoted.” 

X X X

Edward watched Petras dive to escape the flying machine. Bullets cut through the air. He couldn’t tell if any hit their target. He moved around the deck of the airship, stumbling over the downed airmen, trying to keep the dragon in view. Craning his head back, he watched, clutching the railing as Petras performed a lazy loop high overhead. When they came down behind the machine, destroying the tail, Edward cheered. 

“Ed!” Alphonse’s tinny radio voice screamed in his ear. “Get back!” 

He obeyed without thought, throwing himself backward toward the center of the deck. Bullets tore up the wood where he’d been standing. A winged machine droned as it passed by the ship. Edward peeked up over the railing, seeing the machine coming back for a second pass. “Damn it!” 

“Just stay down, Ed, we’re coming!” Julia said. 

“Come faster!” he shouted, ducking down again as bullets struck the airship’s hull. 

“Wha’s…”

Edward glanced over at what had to be the head sailor on the airship. “We’re getting shot at. Stay down!” 

She didn’t listen, staggering up to her knees. Pressing her hand to the side of her head where Edward could see a lump from his attack, she winced. “Shot at?”

Edward leaped across the deck, grabbing her before she stood up. “Yeah! Stay the fuck down, unless you wanna get shot.”

Knuckling one eye, she peered at him. “You’re – you’re Milosian!” She punched at him, her aim so off, Edward barely had to dodge.

“So what if I am. I’m still trying to keep you alive.” Bullets struck the ship’s hull again. Edward ducked reflexively, using his body to shield hers. Why hadn’t they gone for the balloon overhead? That would knock the ship out of the sky faster. 

A dragon roared almost directly overhead, and Edward thought maybe he had his answer. He recognized the green dragon. “Alion!” 

“Elric, are you all right?” Spaso asked through the radio. 

“Yeah, but it’s kind of scary down here. Can you keep them off of us?” 

“Us?” Alion circled the balloon, and Edward saw Spaso leaning down, trying to get a good look at who was in the boat with him. “Those are Cretans.”

“They’re still human beings! I’m not going to let anyone get killed if I can help it!” Edward snapped back. 

The woman under him shoved at his chest, grunting when she couldn’t move him. “You don’t know anything about war,” she sneered. 

“I do,” Edward snapped, both to her and Spaso. “War means someone dies. And someone else hates whoever they think killed their friend, their parent, their family, their lover. So they take up the sword, too. And it’s never ending unless someone can break the cycle! I won’t kill, and I will protect these soldiers in this boat. A prisoner of war can go home to a family. A body is a reason to start fighting again!” The woman lay still at Edward’s speech. He could feel her hands on his chest. “Now, you can help me get you and your men out of this war zone, and to safety, or you can fight me, and I’ll knock you out again. Your choice.” 

She glared up at him, her dark eyes flashing. Edward bared his teeth, cocking back his fist. “By the way,” he added, when she slipped her hand down to her waist, obviously feeling for something, “I took your sidearms and threw them over the side of the boat.” He smiled. “Just to make sure none of you shot me.” 

“Ed!” His name crackled through the radio headset.

“Winry! Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, Ed. What can we do to help?” 

Warmth spread through his chest at Winry’s words. Edward wanted to let out a shout of relief, but it could wait. “There’s a rope at the front of the boat,” he said, “I’ll throw it to you. Petras can pull us over to Amestris.” He glanced at the woman. “And if you’re smart, you’ll help guide this boat over there.”

She curled her lip. “Why would I aid my enemy?”

“Otherwise, we could all die. And do you really want your family mourning your death?”

Tossing her head, she said, “My family would be proud of me to die in battle.” 

“Right. And a casket’s so much nicer to have coming home than a breathing person,” Edward sneered. “Your mom and dad, they’ll be so much happier with a headstone than you.” She faltered, eyes fluttering as she considered his words. “What would they get, your pension? Wouldn’t they rather have grandkids? I know my parents would’ve, if they’d lived long enough.” 

Clenching her hands into fists, she shouted, “All right! All right, I’ll help you. Under protest. As a prisoner of war.” 

Edward grinned. “I’ll make sure to tell everyone I forced you.” 

She huffed through her teeth. “Can those beasts really protect us?”

“You’ve flown against them before, and you have to ask?” 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered, crawling over to the controls for the boat. The steering wheel reminded Edward of pictures he’d seen of boat wheels. The Cretan woman stood up, checking gauges and turning the wheel from side to side while looking back over her shoulder. A rudder wobbled like a dog wagging its tail. The woman nodded grimly. “Do whatever you have to do,” she said. 

Edward grinned, scrambling to the front of the boat and unhooking a long rope there. Already tied to a ring at the front of the boat, all he had to do was fling it out to Winry. “Hey, we’re ready if you are, Winry.” 

“Got it, Ed.” Petras swept around the hanging boat, Winry smiling at him. Other dragons kept watch, giving Petras the ability to fly safely close to the airship. Edward wished he had something like a harpoon, to attach to the end of the rope, give it better stability to reach across the space, but he’d have to make do with what he had. Swinging his arms back and forth to gauge the weight of the rope, he flung it out. 

It looped through the air, only needing to go about a dragon’s length to reach Winry’s outstretched hands. She caught it with an “Oof!” audible even without the radio. Edward watched as she strung the thick rope through the hand holds on the saddle. “We’re ready!”

Edward glanced back toward the pilot. Jutting her chin, she gave him a curt nod. Edward cupped his hands around his mouth. “Take us to Amestris, Petras!” 

She chuffed in reply, turning east, and toward the cliffs of home.


	15. A Gathering of Dragons

**A Gathering of Dragons  
Border City, Amestris**

Watching and waiting was a particularly agonizing thing, Grumman knew. Still, how fascinating was it to be able to watch an aerial battle over a canyon, taking place with two types of flying beasts and two types of flying machines? Field glasses helped bring the action close enough to visualize, though he almost wished he could be standing in Table City, watching the skies from there. How amazing would it be, to watch the battle from there? Well, minus the bombs and gunfire, he decided to himself. 

“Isn’t that amazing?” he asked no one in particular as one of the beasts drew close to an airship, then the airship seemed to chase the beast across the sky. Both of them headed east, heading toward Amestris, and where he stood. 

“Sir, you might want to step back,” Sterling said. Was that a quaver in her voice, Grumman wondered? Or the type of order that a mother might give her child? Did Sterling have children? Perhaps now wasn’t the time to ask. 

“Yes, of course,” Grumman said. Prudently, he moved farther back, though if either the beast or the airship carried bombs or ordinance, there would be no safe place above ground. Cannons and guns turned toward the dragon leading the ship. Tracked it. 

“Someone’s waving,” Colonel Armstrong said, focusing his field glasses on the beast. 

“Perhaps the rider wants to surrender?” Sterling didn’t suggest her men lower their weapons.

“Sir! I know the woman aboard the dragon!” Armstrong whipped around. “It’s Miss Winry Rockbell. She’s the mechanic for Edward Elric. She’s Amestrian. Do not fire!” 

“You can’t be sure of that,” Sterling argued. 

“Sir, I beg you,” Armstrong turned to Grumman. His countenance showed his anguish. “Miss Rockbell is a lovely young woman, a devout Amestrian. Do not risk her death.” 

“Sterling, tell your man to fire on my orders only,” Grumman said. “Anyone who makes a ‘mistake’ might be court-martialed.”

She grated out a, “Yes, sir,” and shouted new orders to her men. Grumman peered over the rims of his glasses at Armstrong while Sterling was busy. “You’d better be correct, Colonel.”

“I’d stake the Armstrong family reputation on it, sir.” 

Other dragons followed the airship, keeping the other beasts from attacking it, stalling the two-winged machines from too close of an approach. The nearer the lead dragon and airship came to the Amestrian cliffs of Death Canyon, the more the winged machines tried to bypass the dragons. ‘Frantic’ wasn’t exactly the word he’d use, but the intensity definitely built. Grumman understood why – Amestris had no weapons of this kind. Acquiring one, intact, would give the military a chance to study it, and modify it for their own use. Pieces of a destroyed airship would make it that much more difficult for Amestris to replicate. 

“Major Armstrong!” The voice came faintly from the battleground, and the dragon rider waved an arm even more frantically. “Don’t shoot!”

Armstrong raised his eyebrows at Grumman. “Yes, yes, I heard,” he said, knowing he sounded testy, like an old man denied a favorite treat. Inwardly, he smirked that Armstrong recognized the woman riding the dragon. It made it so much easier to decide what to do next. “Sterling! Have your men fall back. Give the beast room to land. And we may need a way to anchor that ship. Train your weapons on the flying machines. They are the enemy.” 

“Yes, sir!” Sterling said. 

Grumman tilted his face toward the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun against his skin. This was turning out to be a glorious day.

X X X

Edward hated having an enemy at his back, even one who seemed to be keeping in line with what he wanted her to do. He wanted to keep an eye on Winry and Petras, but kept glancing over his shoulder at the Cretan woman, too. And who knew where Alphonse was – somewhere overhead, with Julia, but other than that? Alphonse could take care of himself, though; he’d proven it time and again. Winry could, too, and she had Petras watching her, but there was that other Cretan prisoner tied up behind Winry. If he managed to get loose, what might he do? 

The Amestrian-side cliffs of Death Canyon drew closer. Even pulling the airship, Petras’s speed was nothing to scoff at. Edward could make out individuals standing near the cliff’s edge. “Winry, be careful. They might think we’re attacking.” 

“I don’t have a white flag to wave, Ed,” came her exasperated response. “I’m trying to show them I’m unarmed.” As if Petras wasn’t a weapon in and of herself. Edward didn’t say it out loud. “I think.” Winry’s voice died, and then came back. “Major Armstrong!” she bellowed. 

“Gah!” Edward couldn’t rip off the radio headphones, sewn into the helmet as they were. Winry’s shout made his ears ring. Squinting, he shaded his eyes with his hand to peer across the distance, spotting the massive man Winry hailed. “Damn.” A stupid smile threatened to take over his face. Spotting Armstrong meant something was going right, didn’t it? “Al, can you see him?” 

Alphonse answered readily. “Yeah, Ed! It really is Major Armstrong.” 

“Don’t shout,” two or three people yelled into their radio mics. 

Edward scowled, glancing back at the Cretan woman. Probably should’ve asked her name at some point. One of her crewmen moaned, blinking his eyes. Damn it. Edward didn’t want to have to knock him out again. They were almost to the cliffs now. Turning away from Amestris, Edward picked his way across the deck to the moaner. He nudged the guy in the ribs with his toe. “Hey. If you get any funny ideas, I’ve taken this boat captive. You, too. Don’t do anything stupid. I’d hate to have to fuck you over.” He glanced at the woman as he said it. Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t say anything. 

“Edward Elric!” Only one man boomed like that. “Welcome to Amestris with your war prize!” Cheers erupted but Edward didn’t let down his guard, not yet. Not until the Amestrians used the rope and pulled the ship down to the ground – there had to be a way to get it to land without that, but the pilot didn’t seem likely to offer up the information. Not until he hopped over the railing, landing in front of Armstrong, and some woman who bristled up like a dog ready to fight, and an old geezer with a handlebar mustache. 

“Hey, Colonel,” Edward said to Armstrong. He glanced at the other two. “Fuhrer Grumman. Lieutenant General. There are four men on the airship.” Looking around, he spotted Winry, still on Petras. “And another prisoner on the back of the dragon.” 

“Edward Elric,” Grumman said. “You do have a knack for turning up in the most interesting places.” 

“It’s a gift,” Edward said, adding, “Sir. And I need to get back up there.” He gestured to the sky. 

“This isn’t your fight, Ed!” Julia’s voice came over the radio. Marina sought out a landing area next to Petras. “You don’t have to fight, not you, nor Al, nor Winry. This is between Milos and Creta.” Soldiers moved back out of the way of the second dragon, some of them keeping weapons at the ready. “You should stay here, where it’s safe.” 

“Julia!” Alphonse protested. 

“She’s right,” Spaso said over the radio. “This is our battle. Leave us to it.”

“We can help,” Winry insisted. She untied the Cretan guy from the back of Petras’s saddle, not quite shoving him off and into the waiting arms of the closest soldiers. “There are people hurt over there. I have medical training!” 

“Then you can come back when this skirmish is over, Winry,” Julia said. Now, Edward could hear her without the radio. “I don’t want the three of you involved! Al, please, dismount.” 

He grumbled, but unhooked himself from the saddle. “We really can help, Julia.” 

She touched his cheek, and Edward had to glance away from the image it presented. “You’ve done enough, Al.” Turning, she met Edward’s eyes. “All of you have.” 

Gritting his teeth, Edward barked out, “Right. Winry, come on. Get off of Petras.” He waded through the soldiers around Petras, ignoring the claps on his back and shoulders. Breaking through to the center of the ring, he looked up at Winry. She bit her lip, glancing down at the stirrup. Petras swung her head around, nudging Edward with her nose. He scratched under her chin with his blunt nails. Intelligence gleamed in Petras’s slotted eyes.

“We can help, Ed,” Winry whispered. She hadn’t unhooked herself from the saddle yet. Blood streaked her cheek. She must’ve gotten cut somehow. 

Edward wanted to leap up behind her, let Petras take off. Wind stirred his hair from the down draft from Marina’s wings. Dust lashed his cheeks, making him glad he hadn’t taken off his goggles. He could just catch a glimpse of Alphonse, making his way through the soldiers. “Winry.” Edward beckoned to her. 

She sighed, resignation making her shoulders droop. Unhooking the flying harness from the saddle, she swung her leg over Petras’s withers. Winry slid off into Edward’s arms. He hugged her tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck for a few seconds. “I want to go back,” she whispered in his ear. 

“Me, too. But Julia wants us to wait.” Edward raised his head, meeting Alphonse’s worried gaze. “We have to wait.” Petras bumped Edward and Winry, shifting them off-balance. She made a chattering sound, turning her head toward the sky. “Go on,” Edward told her. “We’re okay here.” 

“That animal’s not going anywhere,” the lieutenant general said. 

“She’s not an animal!” Winry snapped, pulling away from Edward to confront the woman. “Petras is a friend. Our friend.” She laid her hand on Petras’s shoulder. Petras made a clattering sound, raising a wing to block anyone from approaching Alphonse, Winry or Edward. Winry made as if to duck under Petras’s wing, and both brothers caught her arms, holding her in place. 

“Winry,” Alphonse muttered. 

“Don’t start something, Winry,” Edward squeezed her arm, leaning close enough to whisper in her ear. “We need to be able to get out of here. Don’t get us locked up.” 

Her shoulders heaved and fury stained her cheeks pink. “Petras is our friend,” she repeated. 

“Yes, my dear, we understand that,” Grumman said. “And we’re not going to do anything to stop her if she leaves.” He smiled at the lieutenant general. “Right, Sterling? Why don’t your men step back? I’d hate to antagonize this beautiful creature.” Edward bristled. Was he talking about Winry or Petras? “In the mean time, Mr. Elric, I would like to talk with you. Both of you.” 

“We can talk here,” Edward said. 

At the same time, Alphonse said, “We’re not leaving Winry or Petras.”

“Colonel Armstrong, you’ll keep an eye on Miss Rockbell and the dragon, won’t you?” Grumman asked. 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Oh, good. Boys, if you’ll come with me?” Grumman hesitated. “Miss Rockbell, we’re just going to the train. That’s my personal car, right there.” He pointed. “If there’s any problem, you just yell. My ears are probably too old to hear, but I’m sure these two young men will be listening for any trouble.” 

Edward cocked his eyebrow at Winry. She nodded, a quick dip of her chin. Petras croaked deep in her throat. Alphonse squeezed Winry’s arm, releasing his grip on her to follow Grumman out of the crowd of soldiers. Edward tilted his chin up, meeting Armstrong’s eyes. Armstrong didn’t react in any discernable way, but Edward knew he’d do everything in his power to keep Winry and Petras safe. 

“Mr. Elric, are you coming?” Grumman asked. 

“Yeah. Right behind you.” He pushed the goggles of his flight helmet up onto the top of his head as he walked after Alphonse and Grumman. 

X X X 

Winry leaned against Petras’s shoulder. She understood now why Edward liked pockets in his pants; he could tuck his hands into them. Her hands needed something to do. Petting Petras seemed wrong, especially since she had her head up, watching the soldiers all around them. Winry almost wanted to climb back into the saddle, hook on the harness again. Petras’s tail tapped against the rocky ground. “It’s all right,” Winry murmured, straightening. “You can go, if you want. I’ll be okay. Ed and Al will be, too.” 

Petras twisted her neck around to shove her face against Winry’s torso. Winry rubbed Petras’s ears, marveling over the velvety sensation of them beneath her fingers. Making a sound like a purr, only so deep and loud, it shivered through Winry’s body, Petras scrubbed her forehead against Winry’s flight jacket. 

“Winry Rockbell.” 

She started, almost having forgotten about Colonel Armstrong. “Oh! Sir! Congratulations on your promotion, Colonel!” Winry pulled her goggles down, not wanting to look through the glare on the lenses. 

Stroking his mustache with his thumb, Colonel Armstrong said, “It is good to see you, even in such a peculiar situation.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” Winry bowed her head to him. Petras twisted her neck to peer at him. “Petras, this is Colonel Armstrong. He’s a friend of Ed’s, Al’s, and mine.” She rubbed her fingers under Petras’s closest ear. “Colonel Armstrong, this is Petras. A very good friend.” 

“Good day, Petras,” Colonel Armstrong said, inclining his torso to Petras. Petras tilted her head down in response. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

Petras rumbled in a pleasant way. The skin around Colonel Armstrong’s eyes crinkled as he turned partway to Winry. “Can you tell me, Winry, what is it like to fly?” 

X X X

“All right,” Edward said, leaning his hip against the train wall. He could just see Winry and Petras out the window. Yeah, Armstrong would take care of them, and, truth be told, they could take care of themselves or each other. It still didn’t hurt to keep an eye out. “Let’s get down to it.”

“Down to it, Mr. Elric?” Grumman headed across the train car. Opening a cabinet, he took out a bottle and three glasses. He wagged one of the glasses. 

“Yes, please,” Alphonse said. Edward nodded in agreement, watching as Grumman poured. He brought the glasses to each of them, clinking his own glass against theirs. 

“Yeah, down to it. The dragons are part of Milos, they’re not to be stolen by Amestris.” 

“I never said I wanted to steal the dragons, did I?” Grumman _twinkled_ , damn it.

“Some people would,” Alphonse said, swirling the booze around in his glass, like Granny’d taught them. 

Edward said, “They’d be an asset to Amestris.”

“Yes, I’m sure they would. I can imagine how their skills, and their strengths, could be used in battle. Or even in carrying messages. I watched today’s battle. The airship you brought us can provide us a great advantage over our enemies. Or even our allies. Those flying machines, if we could get even the wreckage of one of those, it could offer us aerial support. But dragons?” Grumman shook his head. “They’re beautiful creatures, but frankly, I have an irrational fear of any animal larger than a dog. They can stay with Milos.”

**Thessalia, Creta**

The radio crackled. “Lieutenant Colonel Zoglakis,” Captain Therrel said, “I regret to report the _Air Strider_ has been captured by Amestris.” 

“Damn it,” Zirimis snarled, slamming his gnarled fist on the top of the radio. The metal groaned. 

“Therrel,” Eirene picked up a mic. “Forget about the ship. We need to take Milos. Can you do that? Do you have the firepower?”

“Sir, the chimeras have attacked our own ships as often as they’ve attacked the dragons. The dragons,” Therrel said, “have been doing their best to protect my men.” 

Eirene inhaled sharply. Zirimis shouted into his mic, “Repeat that, Captain!”

“The dragons attack the chimera attacking us,” Therrel said, clear and concise. “They protect the pilots with destroyed machines, to keep the chimera away. They fought for us. In all conscience, sir, we cannot attack Milos.” 

“You’ll be court martialed!” Zirimis screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. “You’ll all be court martialed! Attack Milos!”

Eirene dropped her hand, feeling for the pistol and flipping the guard of the holster open. 

Zirimis roared into the mic. “Do you hear me, Captain? Destroy Milos. And if you cannot do that, don’t bother coming back alive.” 

Pulling her pistol, Eirene thumbed the safety off. “Turn off the radio, Generalissimo.” 

“What?” He turned to her, fury at being interrupted painting his face red, until he realized her pistol pointed directly at his head. “This is treason!” 

“It is,” Eirene agreed. Her finger tightened on the trigger, squeezing it gently. 

The sound of the gunshot in such an enclosed space nearly deafened them all, but Eirene said, “Bring them home, best you can.” 

“Yes, sir!” her radio crew shouted, turning the radios back on. 

Eirene shook her head at Zirimis’s body. It really was too bad the strain of the battle, and his chimeras failing, made him take his own life. 

X X X

“Julia, they’re retreating!” Daniel shouted. “They’re leaving our airspace!” 

Julia craned her neck hard enough to make the joints pop. “Marina, do you hear?” 

Marina dove after another chimera, not about to stop chasing the creatures invading her canyon. Julia grinned, leaning down over Marina’s neck. “Get that one, and then we need to tell Petras to bring the Elrics and Winry back.”


	16. Catch the Rising Currents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue.

**Table City, Milos**

“Well, Miss Crichton, I have to thank you for hosting our visit to Milos,” Grumman said, patting her fingers tucked into the crook of his elbow. 

“We thank you, Fuhrer Grumman,” Julia said. “You and your soldiers have offered us so much help over these past few days.”

“It was our pleasure, my dear.” Grumman smiled at her. “Besides, how could Amestris turn our back on you? Especially with the offer you made.” 

She smiled. “It seems like something that would benefit both Amestris and Milos.” Tilting her head back, she studied the brilliant skies with stark white clouds drifting slowly to the southwest. A couple of dragons circled overhead, keeping watch on Creta. 

“Yes, I do believe it will be greatly beneficial for both of us.” Grumman let her guide him up the train station steps. An engine steamed in the station, the stokers loading it with wood and water. “I have to admit, I’m happy I don’t have to fly across the canyon dangling from a balloon, or flying on the back of a dragon.” Leaning closer, he said, “I’ll let you in on a secret, Miss Crichton.”

“Yes, sir?” She smiled at him. 

“I don’t really like trains, either. A stagecoach or by my own foot. I like to be able to see around me, not a blur of scenery.” 

“I’ll remember that next time you visit, Fuhrer.” 

His mustache wriggled. “I doubt it’ll make much difference, dear. But it’s very kind of you to say so.” Taking her hand from his arm, he kissed her knuckles. “You will take good care of the Elrics and their young friend, won’t you?” 

Julia kept herself from chuckling. “Of course!” 

“Oh, good. Well. I do hope to see you in a few months, in Central City.” Grumman patted her hand. “Lieutenant General Sterling? Colonel Armstrong? Are you ready to return to Amestris?”

“Yes, sir,” they barked out. 

“Excellent.” Grumman climbed the steps to his train car. “Come along, then, so Miss Crichton can get back to her duties.” 

Julia watched them through the windows of the car as they settled into seats for the ride across to Amestris. Grumman waved at her through the window, making her think of a particularly cheery uncle. Lieutenant General Sterling nodded to her stiffly. Colonel Armstrong waved a handkerchief at her. Julia waved as the engineer climbed up into the engine. The bell on the engine tolled, alerting everyone the train was leaving the station. Julia stepped back from the edge of the platform, watching as the train began to roll away from Milos. 

After the train was fairly on its way, she turned back to Table City. With a smile, she ran down to the aeries, sure she’d find her friends there. Karina sat on Alphonse’s knee outside of Petras’s stall. Inside, Edward scrubbed Petras’s skin with a pumice stone, stopping to dip it in water. “Hi, Julia.” Alphonse smiled at her, Karina leaping off his knee to give her a hug. 

Edward wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Hey, Julia,” he said. 

Julia hugged Karina back before joining Alphonse on the bench outside the stall. “Hi,” she said, giving him his own special grin. He returned it, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “So. Um. Where’s Winry?” 

“Where else?” Edward asked. “She’s down talking to old man Gon about automail.” He stopped scrubbing to lean on Petras’s withers. “But Spaso said we could take the girls out for a flight upriver later today.” Petras reached around to nudge him. “Fine, fine, I’ll get back to work,” he groused, starting to scrub her skin again. “You’re a slave driver, you know that?” Petras clucked deep in her throat, nuzzling Edward’s hair and lipping at his ponytail. “Hey! Leave my hair alone!”

Julia grinned, taking Alphonse’s hand. “Want to help me clean up Marina?” 

“I’d be glad to,” he said, getting to his feet. He pulled her up along with him, keeping hold of her hand as they walked to Marina’s stall. 

X X X

Edward tugged on Petras’s saddle, making sure it wouldn’t slip, no matter what acrobatics she decided to try this afternoon. She chuffed, chewing on air and tapping her tail against the cave floor. “Yeah, I know, I just like checking.” Edward turned to Winry, trying not to seem like he was watching closely as she zipped up her flight jacket. As he realized he preferred watching her take it off, Edward coughed, glancing sideways. 

“What?” Winry asked. 

“Nothing!” Edward squeaked, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “Uh. Just.” Stepping closer, he gave her jacket the same sort of tug he had Petras’s saddle. “Checking.” 

Rolling her eyes, Winry zipped his jacket closed, giving the lapels a tug. “There. You’re checked, too.” 

The sound Petras made reminded Edward too much of his brother’s snicker. He bared his teeth at her. “Ed, stop teasing Petras.”

“Me?” 

Winry grinned, rising up on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “You.” Before he could react, she grabbed the saddle hold, sticking her foot in the stirrup and hauling herself up into the saddle. Hooking her harness onto the saddle, she said, “Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?” 

Making a face, Edward pulled himself into the saddle seat in front of Winry. He hooked up and leaned forward to pat Petras’s shoulder. “All right. We’re ready if you are.” 

Petras shook her head, her ears flapping against her cheeks. 

“I think that’s a yes,” Winry said. 

Edward grinned. “Yeah, me, too.” 

A few minutes later, they were in the air, soaring high above the canyon floor. Marina matched Petras’s speed, the two dragons winging their way north, following the river below. Winry wrapped her arms around Edward’s chest, leaning against his back. The cold air made her warmth feel amazing. 

To the west lay the enemy; though Creta had been incredibly quiet these past couple of days. Word came out the country was in mourning for some high- ranking military officer. They could stay quiet, as far as Edward was concerned. He’d had enough of battles, whether on the ground or in the air. 

The deal Julia made with Amestris would help keep Milos safe. The Milosian dragons would patrol the Cretan border for Amestris. In exchange, Amestris would continue to provide supplies to Milos, as well as alchemists to try and purify the land enough for growing crops and beasts. The land in Death Canyon could be made fertile, Julia knew it. Edward already put in a request to have the Tringham brothers come west. He thought Julia would find their skills useful. 

And that wasn’t even considering whether Alphonse was going to leave. His plans to go East, to Xing, had been pushed back for a while. Edward didn’t really want to know what his brother was getting up to with Julia. He had a good idea, or at least could make some intelligent guesses. Winry and he were probably getting up to the same sort of things. 

Winry had already called Pinako from Border City, and sent a letter letting Garfiel know she’d be heading to Rush Valley soon. Edward didn’t know if he could let her go alone. With Alphonse pushing back his trip, Edward wasn’t sure he wanted to start his yet. Besides, he thought he’d learned a lot in the west already. 

“Hey, Ed!” Julia called, interrupting his thoughts. “I say Marina can beat Petras to that island in the middle of the river ahead.” 

“In your dreams,” Edward taunted. “Petras, you can beat Marina, can’t you?” She squawked in response. “We’ll take your bet. Loser has to clean the other’s stall.” 

Julia laughed. “You’re on! Marina, go!” 

“Hey!” Edward yelped. 

“Too slow, Ed!” Alphonse shouted, loud enough to be heard without the radio. 

“We’ll see about that.” Edward whistled and Petras squalled, stretching her neck out as she picked up speed. Winry plastered herself on Edward’s back, laughing in his ear. “We’re gonna win,” he hollered.

It didn’t matter if they did or didn’t. Right now, this sheer joy made up for so much that happened before. Edward glanced sideways, seeing Alphonse and Julia urging Marina to go faster. Winry called to Petras, encouraging her. 

“Faster, Petras!” Edward yelled, and she pulled ahead of Marina, her wings cutting through the air. Each wing beat took them closer to the prize. It might not be a perfect moment, Edward thought, but it had to be pretty damned close.

**~end~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering doing a 'director's notes' for this story. If you have any questions you'd like answered, please ask them here!


	17. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy gets a letter from Ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter/stand-alone ficlet was written for the Live Journal community, FMA Fic Contest.

The packet came with the daily mail, something not in a military envelope so Roy set it aside for reading later. Work came first in Ishval but Roy did allow himself the thought it would be a welcome respite at the end of the day. Though the Ishvalans offered a cautious welcome to the Amestrian military, there were still those who hated the military assisting in rebuilding Ishval and a letter from home could go a long way in soothing hurt feelings. 

With that in mind, Roy let the thought of the letter settle in his head throughout the day. While talking with Dr. Marcoh and the Ishvalan formerly known as ‘Scar’ about what the Ishvalans might need for health care, he considered the letter. Was it something about his request for a medical clinic? When discussing the weekly and monthly goals with Hawkeye, he thought perhaps the letter might offer a suggestion as to what they might want to work on next. 

When the day had finally ended, with the Ishvalan’s soft chants to Ishvala ringing through the village, Roy lit the lantern in his cool adobe building. Adjusting the wick for maximum brightness, Roy settled into his chair and slit open the packet. 

A letter spilled out, some photographs slithering across his desk and onto the packed dirt floor. Roy grunted as he leaned over to pick up the pictures, freezing when he spotted a too-familiar cocky grin. Carefully he picked the photographs up and spread them out on the desktop. Edward Elric with his mechanic. And his brother. And pictures of what looked to be Milos, based on the clothing style. Whatever were they doing in Milos? Last he’d heard, the Elrics had plans to travel west and east, respectively, though Roy agreed Milos was in the west. 

Unfurling the letter, he narrowed his eyes at Fullmetal’s script. His handwriting hadn’t improved despite having a dominate flesh hand rather than using his non-dominate hand. It took a few seconds before Roy could decipher the scrawl into actual letters and once he did, he nearly blasted the letter into ashes. 

_Hey bastard,_

_We’re in Milos. Sending you some pictures. Did you know Milos has dragons? There’re a couple of pictures of us with them. The red one is Petras._

_Julia Crichton says ‘hi’. So do Al and Winry._

_We helped stop a war._

_Hope you’re having fun in Ishval._

_~ Ed_

Roy flipped through the photographs of Fullmetal with a dragon. Of Alphonse with Julia Crichton. Of Miss Rockbell and Miss Crichton with red and green dragons. Roy let out a sigh that, had he added any alchemy to it, probably would’ve scorched the top of his desk. 

“I hate that brat.” 


	18. Press Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a response to a prompt, the idea to slap it on the end of this story worked out too well.

Sometimes, Roy hated public speaking. He looked at his notes for the third time before glancing sideways at Captain Hawkeye who stared at him placidly. "Are you sure you don't want to take my place, Captain?" 

"You are better at public speaking, sir." 

He sighed heavily at the comment. "Right, then." Squaring his shoulders and running his hand over his hair to push that one strand back into place, Roy strode out onto the dais and nodded at the reporters waiting for the story. "Good afternoon," he said, "and thank you for coming. I have a statement to make and then, if there is time, I will take some questions." Roy made a show of glancing at his notes. "As you have probably heard, there was an altercation in the West near the Milosian border. Yes, the Fullmetal Alchemist was involved. Yes, he is still alive." Damn the luck. "The details of the altercation must remain classified at this point however there was an arsonist and a threat of a bomb at the Milosian Bridge." He took a breath, seeing the reporters tensing up, bracing themselves for their questions. "I can take three questions." 

"Major General Mustang!" chorused the reporters, waving hands. 

"Yes, Miss Calendar?" 

"Can you give us any more information of the Fullmetal Alchemist's involvement?" 

"That he was involved," Roy said. To himself, he added, 'And no longer an alchemist' but that bit of information wasn't common knowledge. "I'm afraid I cannot provide any more information than that at this point."

"I could." With the shit-eating grin Roy hated plastered across his face, Edward Elric sauntered down the aisle. "Hey, Major General Mustang. Heard you were talking about me; figured you'd want some actual information about what's happening out West." 

The reporters and cameras all turned to Fullmetal, the people shouting, the flashbulbs popping, and Edward Elric enjoying every bit of the hoopla. 

Roy smiled through gritted teeth. One day, he'd know better than to mention the devil's name. It always came with consequences. Today, he had to suck it up and make nice with his one-time subordinate, galling as it might be. 

Raising his voice to be heard over the hubbub, Roy said, "Ladies and gentlemen, Edward Elric cannot answer questions at this time as he needs to be debriefed. Fullmetal?" 

He bared his teeth, waving at Roy or waving him off, Roy wasn't sure. Until Edward spotted Hawkeye and then his smile softened. He told the reporters, "Gotta go, duty. You know," and sauntered up to the dais, climbing the stairs and promptly heading over to Hawkeye. 

Roy smiled his most urbane smile and held up his hand. "No more questions, please." And he turned to follow Edward off the stage, managing to catch his invitation to Hawkeye to come and visit Risembool. "I know Winry would love to see you again. You could bring your dog!" 

Today was definitely a day Roy hated public speaking.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fullmetal Alchemist Crossover/Au - How To Train Your Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940936) by [Fennethianell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fennethianell/pseuds/Fennethianell)




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